


A Walk to Remember

by Bugggghead



Category: Archie Comics, Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alice is controlling (as always), Betty is ill - not with cancer, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, FP Jones II is a drunk, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Good Girl!Betty, I REPEAT - NO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS!, Movie AU, NO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS!, Romantic Fluff, Serpent!Jughead, a walk to remember movie au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-05-15 03:05:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14782469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bugggghead/pseuds/Bugggghead
Summary: High school senior, Jughead Jones, falls in love with the perfect girl next door, Betty Cooper, while making amends for his friends' misdeeds through a part in the school play. They develop a deep and powerful connection despite their obvious contrasts and staggeringly different social circles.ORA story is inspired by the movie A Walk to Remember with many of the plot lines modified and bent to fit into the Riverdale world.





	1. Friday Night (Quarry) Lights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a92vm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a92vm/gifts).



> Thank you @a92vm for being my beta on this fic & giving me these wonderful ideas that I just run away with. <3

*

  
  


Friday nights were always spent like this, Fangs and Sweet Pea competitively shotgunning beers while the rest of the Serpents roughhoused in his peripherals. They were at Sweetwater Quarry, wasting away their teenage nights with alcohol and nonsense. 

 

Jughead sat in the back of the old Ford pickup, slowly sipping on his own beer and trying to keep his lack of consumption as inconspicuous as possible. He did drink, sometimes, but with the unspoken implications of the alcohol addiction that ran in his family, he wasn’t one to drink in excess. A little bit here and there was fine, but it was a slippery slope from casual drinks to full on black outs. A slope he had seen his dad slide down on more than one occasion. Being a senior in high school meant nights like this were essential to his adolescence, spending time with his closest friends and relishing in the nonsensical antics as a ploy to take his mind away from  anything and everything outside the locked fence, that they haphazardly broke through thanks to a pair of bolt cutters he swiped from the Wyrm years ago and a plethora of locks he kept stocked in the truck for these exact occasions. 

 

It had become a tradition for Jughead and his friends to spend their Friday nights down at the  Quarry. Each week they broke the lock, entered the private grounds, and proceeded to make asses of themselves. It was a consistent and reliable event that Jughead found some strange comfort in.

 

Reliability had been lacking in his life for as long as he could remember. His father’s love for the bottle took them both through rounds of crippling battles and cycles of sobriety. Truthfully, life with FP had been a rollercoaster since his mother left when he was a child. There was no consistency to FP’s parenting. One week his concerns were focused on Jughead and his future, the next week the intoxicating liquid would wash the slate clean, FP’s only focus being on where he would get his next fix. It was exhausting and Jughead found peace in the knowledge that at the very least, every Friday for the last few years, he could count on his friends to distract him long enough to avoid the rundown trailer until FP was either safely passed out or definitively gone for the night.

 

“Jones!” Sweet Pea shouted over the obnoxiously loud radio, wrapping an arm around Fangs and approaching the broody teen. “Let’s make tonight interesting.”

 

There was a mischievous glint in his friend’s eye and Jughead felt a smile creep up on his lips, “What’d you have in mind Pea?”

 

“I bet $50 that I can jump further out into the quarry than anyone else.” Everyone’s attention turned to Sweet Pea as he raised his hands and laughed,  “Any takers?”

 

“I’m in,” Fangs said without a second thought.

 

“Me too,” Toni echoed.

 

There was a chorus of ‘yes’ and ‘me too’ as all of the young serpents gathered around the truck.

 

“Who’s first?” Jughead asked, his position as the leader of the younger faction perfectly clear to everyone in attendance.

 

“I’ll go first,” Fangs offered, jabbing Sweet Pea in the side. “I do need to set the standard after all.”

 

They all decided on their order as Fangs stripped down to his boxers and approached the edge of the steep cliff. The water was about thirty feet down - calm and still - and Fangs visibly stiffened at the sight.

 

“Don’t tell me you’re chickening out!” Sweet Pea jested.

 

“Uh - No, I’m just, um,” Fangs gulped, “It’s kinda far down there.”

 

Everyone laughed at Fangs’ obvious unease. 

 

“Don’t chicken out now Fogarty,” Toni teased.

 

Jughead observed Fangs shifting uneasily from one foot to the other and made his way over to his friend, offering his still mostly full and semi cold beer to the uncomfortable boy. 

 

“Here, take the edge off,” Jughead said quietly, clamping a hand down on his shoulder and squeezing. The exchange went unnoticed by their friends who were too preoccupied placing bets on who would jump furthest and who wouldn’t jump at all.

 

“Thanks man,” Fangs breathed, tipping the can back and emptying it’s contents down his throat. “Alright guys,” he announced, “Let’s do this!”

 

Jughead laughed at the false bravado a simple can of fermented grain could provide his lifelong friend. He knew it didn't actually had some courage magically mixed in but somehow it still seemed to do the trick.

 

Everyone gathered around, chanting ‘Fangs’ over and over again until the boy took his running start.

 

It all seemed to happen in slow motion, everything individually, and yet somehow all at once.

 

Fangs made it almost to the edge of the cliff, tripping himself up where the grass ended and the rocks dipped down. He tumbled forward, clearly down instead of out - as everyone knew he intended. There was a collective gasp and time stood still as the sounds of bumps and grunts filled the eerily quiet area.

 

“FANGS!” Jughead finally choked out, “Fangs!” he shouted again, running to the edge of the cliff. No one else moved, as if they all fell under the same collective trance and Jughead’s eyes went wide at the sight of his friend tumbling down the hard rock face. A thirty foot drop seemed to take a lifetime as Jughead forgot how to breathe. “FANGS!” he yelled once more, desperately and with no answer.

 

“Jug!” Sweet Pea said urgently, shaking his friend’s shoulder and bringing him back to the present. “Jug, we gotta get out of here.”

 

Only with Sweet Pea’s intervention did Jughead finally register the red and blue lights speeding down the highway, heading their direction. 

 

Everyone around him scrambled, gathering their things and piling into their cars. Sweet Pea was shaking his shoulder again but his concern returned to his unconscious friend at the bank of the quarry. 

 

“Jug, we have to go now,” Sweet Pea pled, “hop in.”

 

“No, you go, I’ve got this,” Jughead said, his voice sounded hollow, even to himself as dred pooled deep within him. 

 

Sweet Pea bolted without another word and the cars started with a roar, tearing down the long dirt road and veering in the opposite direction of the flashing lights.

 

He couldn’t bring himself to leave his fallen friend ‘ _ No Serpent is left for dead’ _ , echoed in his head. The fourth law of the club was one his friends conveniently seemed to forget as the dust clouds formed and the vehicles disappeared from view.

 

Jughead scrambled down the steep path as the sirens grew louder. He knew if they had followed his friends they would have been waning by now, transitioning from the loud ringing to a dull echo. Instead, with each step he took, they drew closer, bathing the area above in bright red and blue hues.

 

He reached his friend and cradled him in his arms, taking in the sight of the blood dripping from his forehead and his chest heaving with shallow breaths. Jughead looked further down and his breath caught at the sight. Fangs’ leg was twisted in an unnatural position, a sharp angle present on his shin that should have been straight, his foot perpendicular to where it belonged. 

 

“I’m so sorry buddy,” Jughead said quietly, knowing his friend couldn’t hear him anyway.

 

“We got a noise complaint Jones! We know you’re down there! We see your truck. Come up here right now!” The sheriff's voice boomed loudly over the cruiser’s speaker.

 

Jughead didn’t move. He sat there for a long moment, cradling his injured friend and rocking back and forth until the bright pillars from their flashlights sought out the two friends.

 

-

 

Jughead spent the night at the county jail. He was questioned for hours on end, Sheriff Keller trying to pry for more information on the other people present and Jughead not bending an inch, saying it was just him. He took the full blame, citing the fifth law to himself as the reason - ‘ A Serpent never betrays his own’. The sheriff pressed and threatened but ultimately came up empty, resigning to the fact that Jughead was the only one he had to pin it on. 

 

They tried contacting FP but everyone in town knew he had fallen off the bandwagon,at least for the last few months, and was probably passed out somewhere unreachable. As the sun rose, Sheriff Keller told him Fangs’ mom was there, fresh from the hospital, asking to speak to him.

 

Jughead apologized profusely, even shedding a tear of guilt in the barren interrogation room, every piece of furniture was made of the same cool, bleak metal, the chill from the contact seeping deep into his bones. 

 

She told him Fangs was alright, he had some swelling on the brain and he was still unconscious, his shoulder and leg were both broken and he had been banged up pretty bad; but he was alive, and expected to make a full recovery. The news caused a new wave of tears to pool from his ducts, welling up around the rims and falling shamelessly at the relief he felt.

 

Sheriff Keller wasn’t able to hold him on any criminal charges other than trespassing - which still hadn’t stuck without the land owner’s approval. Instead of proceeding with the trespassing, the sheriff offered him the option of completing community service hours to atone for the misdeeds. Jughead eagerly agreed. While he was a member of a motorcycle gang, and his grades weren’t stellar, the slim chance of a life after high school, complete with higher education, would surely turn to dust if a criminal charge was stamped on his record. Community service was doable, especially when he was instructed to get in touch with his principal on Monday and coordinate how he could complete it with after school activities. 

 

It was midmorning on Saturday when Fangs’ mom dropped him off at the trailer. He was greeted by the sight of his father, clearly disheveled and reeking of last night’s alcohol, a smell so strong it was almost sour. It was almost astonishing his father’s ability to ingest enough alcohol the night before to wake up still drunk the next morning. 

 

“What the fuck were you thinking boy?!” FP slurred. 

 

Jughead didn’t even dignify him with a response, instead brushing past him to gather a change of clothes.

 

“I’m going out,” he called from the hallway, making his way back to the front door.

 

“I don’t think so boy,” FP tried to protest, still unsteady on his feet.

 

Jughead ignored him, pushing past his father easily and slamming the door on his way out. 

 

-

 

The hospital was Jughead’s least favorite place in the entire world but he knew he needed to visit Fangs. As he entered the building, he turned to the right, knowing full well where the ICU unit was. Jughead spent more time than he cared to admit within the four whitewashed walls. It felt like a lifetime ago as he padded down the hallway.

 

As a kid, Jughead would come to visit his dad at work. FP was a well respected ER doctor and often worked long shifts with minimal breaks. Jughead and his mother, Gladys, would pay FP a visit at least twice a week, bringing leftover meals and keeping him company. In his younger years, Jughead always thought he wanted to be a doctor, he wanted to do what his father did, to save lives and make a difference. But when his entire world came crashing down after his mother left, the rose colored glasses he had always seen his father through faded away and all that was left was a sad remnant of the man he once was. 

 

FP fell into the bottom of every bottle he could find after Gladys left and lost his job within days. The Serpent's took him in, using his expertise for less than respectable deeds when the gang needed a discreet doctor; they didn’t care if FP poured the same whiskey he chugged onto the wounds they asked him to heal. Their operating room wasn’t full of sanitized tools and blinding lights, instead, it had a dirty table top littered with half empty bottles and a touchy bar lamp hanging overtop. It was quite a fall from grace, in Jughead’s opinion, for his father to go from a well respected pinnacle of Riverdale’s medical community to nothing more than an emergency ‘doctor’ for victims of gang violence. 

 

FP thankfully used half his savings to purchase the Wyrm when Jughead was still young, before his mother left, opting to allocate the other half to his habit. The savings account had been empty for years but the revenue from the Wyrm somehow still kept them afloat - cumbersome drinking habit and all. Jughead swapped the time he spent at the hospital for time at the Wyrm, acquainting himself with what would soon become his chosen family. The club raised him just as much, if not more so, than his father ever did. Fangs, especially, had been one of Jughead’s oldest friends. 

 

His guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders as he rounded the corner and took in Fangs’ beat up appearance laying limp in the hospital bed. His friend was littered with bruises and cuts visible on every inch of flesh not already covered with bandages and he felt his heart sink from his chest all the way down to the floor.

 

He stayed for a few hours, the rhythmic beeping of the monitors creating a strangely soothing ambiance in the empty room. Jughead whispered apologies for the first little while and recounted his night at the station afterward. He knew Fangs couldn’t hear him, and even worse, he knew if Fangs  _ could _ hear him, Jughead’s trivial problems paled in comparison to the gravity of his friend’s current condition. But saying it out loud, the deal he made to ‘atone’ for his actions, made Jughead feel a slight bit better. Even though no amount of community service could heal his best friend, the notion of trying to repay his moral debt in some way eased the burden of guilt that had settled heavily around him. 

 

-

 

Monday came quicker than Jughead had hoped for. He was in the principal’s office first thing in the morning. Principal Weatherbee relegated him to participate in the school play to pay for his reparations and it seemed easy enough at the time so Jughead eagerly agreed, thinking of all the things that could have been far worse for his punishment. 

 

The final bell rang in his last class and he made his way to the auditorium down the hall. The doors parted, granting him entrance to the expansive room and Jughead tried not to dwell on how different he looked from everyone already in attendance. He had his well-worn gray ‘S’ t-shirt on, layered with a mismatched flannel, maroon hoodie, and finally the heavy leather jacket bearing the signature Serpent symbol on the back. He buried his fists deep in the pockets of his dark wash jeans and put one converse clad foot in front of the other as he trudged toward the front of the room.

 

A handful of other students were gathered around the stage, pouring over the pages of the script and apparently running lines together. The director waved him over to the front row and thrust a copy of the play into his hands.

 

“Dilton broke his ankle so he’s out, which means you’re in. The play is a little over a month away so be prepared. His lines are highlighted, study them today during rehearsals and we’ll put you up on stage tomorrow.”

 

The entire rehearsal was spent in an uncomfortable wooden chair that creaked loudly every time Jughead feebly tried to adjust himself. The sound echoed through the space that was designed for that exact purpose, drawing stares at various points from each cast member. 

 

Jughead recognized everyone up on the stage. Veronica Lodge, Riverdale’s own pampered princess who radiated an air of superiority, stood on one side, and Betty Cooper, the goody two shoes who exuded poise and perfection in every way, stood on the other. There were a few more people settled into seats watching their scene play out. Each time any of them looked over at him, he sank a bit further onto the hard chair and pulled his trusty woolen gray beanie down further, attempting - in vain - to remain as invisible as possible. 

 

-

 

The next day, after school, Jughead tried taking the same seat only to be summoned by the director before he even touched the wooden chair.

 

“Today we’re working on the scene with yours and Betty’s characters. Do you know your lines?” 

 

“Sure, why not,” Jughead drawled, thinking nothing of popping his copy open as they sat and simply reading off the page.

 

“Let’s begin!”

 

After the first run through, Jughead hadn’t said a single line right and the director was clearly growing irritated.

 

“I’m glad you felt like wasting our time today Mr. Jones. We’re calling it on your scene. Learn your lines or you're out of the play. Got it?”

 

“10-4, captain,” he said dryly, complete with an apparently infuriating mock salute.

 

The simple gesture earned him a trip to the principal's office with the director. After sitting through the director’s character assassination and the threats of expulsion from Principal Weatherbee, Jughead realized if he didn’t start making some sort of effort, he ran the risk of losing any shot he might have had to get out of the god forsaken town. He said he would make more of an effort and he meant it.

 

“I suggest you ask someone for help, because quite frankly, Mr. Jones, I don't think you’re capable of doing this on your own,” his director said matter of factly as they walked back into the auditorium. 

 

Jughead gathered his things and pushed through the doors, out toward the parking lot, and finally took a deep steadying breath, refocusing his thoughts and mentally patting himself on the back for his superior self control. He wanted to go off on the director in Weatherbee’s office, he wanted to mouth of to Weatherbee, too. But he knew neither of those would do any good and instead remained quiet, surprising even himself. He reached up and tugged off his beanie, combing his long fingers through the dark unruly locks.

 

_ ‘I don’t think you’re capable.’  _ The director's words echoed the sentiments he had heard countless times before. Higher ranking members of the Serpents - his father included - tried going that route when he first joined, questioning his aptitude so frequently he began to question it himself. All throughout school, his teachers had said similar disparaging comments, sometimes under their breath and other times out loud for everyone to hear them. After a over a decade of hearing the same thing repeated to him from so many different sources, he figured it had to be rooted in at least a kernel of truth.

 

He felt someone tap on his shoulder and spun around, grabbing their wrist - which was tiny and delicate and entirely unexpected - out of pure instinct. None other than the literal ray of sunshine that was ‘Perfect’ Betty Cooper stood in front of him, clad in her typical pastel cardigan, pressed skirt and ballet flats. Her trademark ponytail looked just as tight as ever and not a single hair was out of place, smoothed flat by sheer will and determination he assumed.

 

“Jughead?” she questioned, tugging her wrist from his grip.

 

“What do you want Coop?” he said, unamused.

 

“I heard the director say you needed help and I thought I’d offer to run lines with you.”

 

“You really want to run lines with me, princess?”

 

“I really want this play to be good,” she returned, clearly avoiding the answer they both knew she would give.

 

“I’m fine. Thanks though,” he said dismissively.

 

“Fine, have it your way.” Betty turned to leave, her pristine flats trudging down the sidewalk and her perfect ponytail swaying with each step. 

 

Jughead knew he should take her up on her offer. He  _ did  _ need help and she seemed good. In fact, she seemed  _ really _ good from what he had seen in rehearsals over the last two days. She rattled off her lines, full of feelings and nearly perfect every single time.

 

He groaned loudly and tugged the beanie back onto his head before running after her. He caught up with her about a block from the front of the school.

 

“Hey, wait up. I didn’t mean that back there,” he attempted, shoving his hands in his pockets and trying to match her pace.

 

“It’s fine. I always have to at least pretend to be nice so I offered. You said no. Simple as that. Goodbye Jughead.”

 

“Really? That’s it?”

 

“Listen, do you want my help?” she turned and asked, a serious expression settling over her features. Her eyes were startlingly green, catching him off guard. Jughead wasn’t sure if it was enhanced by the springtime growth that surrounded them or simply shining brightly from the inside out, but no matter the external factors - her eyes were breathtaking. He nodded, stunned silent for a minute by the way her eyes softened at his obvious sudden lack of vocabulary. “I’ll help you on one condition.”

 

“Which is…” he asked cautiously.

 

“Promise me you won’t fall in love with me.”

 

Jughead couldn’t help the laugh that erupted from his chest. 

 

“Deal,” he said easily, resuming their slow trek down the street.

 

Jughead had known Betty for most of their lives. They both grew up in Riverdale, had gone to summer camps together and attended the same school every year, more often than not even being placed in the same class.  _ No problem _ , Jughead thought, it wouldn’t be hard to stay out of love with his polar opposite, the bright and cheery Betty Cooper. It was nearly laughable she would even consider that a possibility.

  
  


*


	2. Down by the (Sweetwater) River

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to both @a92vm and @elsaunfiltered for their medical knowledge.  
> I am by no means a doctor so if anything is incorrect medically I ask that you use a modicum of ~suspended disbelief~
> 
> Enjoy!

*

  
  


On Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, Jughead found himself at the White Wyrm after rehearsals, as per usual; but instead of betting on his friends’ games of pool or laughing along as they sang off key to the jukebox, he sat in an empty booth off to the side and studied his lines for the looming play. 

 

The first day, his friends teased him relentlessly, often breaking his concentration with tossed napkins or loud commentary about exactly how awful it must be to have to spend his afternoons with none other than Princess Veronica and Boring Betty.

 

However, the next day, Sweet Pea made his way over to him and offered to help, clearly sensing Jughead’s sudden uncharacteristic dedication to the study of his lines and quite possibly feeling a bit of guilt for his own involvement in the misdeed that had landed Jughead the punishment to begin with. Sweet Pea was certainly not a natural when it came to acting, that much was obvious right off the bat as he droned on with the lines and lacked even a semblance of feeling. But his assistance  _ was _ mildly helpful and Jughead found himself roping Sweet Pea in on Friday for the same study session.

 

When Saturday came around, Jughead opted out of the club’s typical ride along the Sweetwater River and found himself on Betty Cooper’s front porch instead. Her house looked like a picture straight out of a magazine, large colonial columns decorated the front and the grandiose, intricately carved wooden door aided to the overall impression that the house was probably worth more than all of the trailers in Sunnyside Trailer Park combined.

 

He trudged up the steps and brought a hand up to knock on the door, but before his knuckles could make contact and echo through the house, Betty twisted the handle and opened it for him.

 

“I saw you from the window,” she offered as explanation. “Let’s sit on the porch.”

 

They both settled onto the porch swing and began running lines. Betty had known her lines for weeks, rattling them off laced with emotions and almost effortlessly. Jughead, on the other hand, stumbled through each line, misquoting the script and speaking in an almost bored tone.

 

“Are you trying to be bad at this?” 

 

“No,” he paused, a smile creeping up on the edges of his lips, “it just comes naturally.”

 

Betty rolled her eyes. “Just like being an ass apparently.”

 

“Ouch,” he mocked, gripping a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded over here Betts.”

 

**“** So, would it kill you to try?” Betty was getting angry, exhausted with the jokes. She needed him to take this seriously and it didn’t seem like he was capable.

 

**“** Yep, and I'm too young to die,” he teased.

 

“Listen, if you’re not going to take this seriously, I’m done,” Betty suddenly snapped. “I have plenty of better things to do with my time than waste it taking pity on you,” she spat, thinking about her earlier conversation with her mother about the true value of  _ wasted  _ time - it had become a fickle thing after all.

 

Jughead’s expression fell, suddenly serious, registering the affect his antics had on Betty’s now stiffened demeanor. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he said softly, reaching forward to lay a hand on her forearm.

 

Betty pulled back, jumping up from the swing and twisting around, hoping to conceal the tears welling up in her ducts. Her emotions had been heightened recently, strained from the nearly daily talks with her mother about her condition. She crossed her arms carefully, bringing one hand up, discreetly hidden by her torso to swipe at the wetness rimming her eyes. “I think you should leave,” she sniffled, attempting, in vain, to quell her mounting nerves.

 

“Betty,” he said, his voice thick with concern and suddenly close. She felt the warmth of his palm land on her shoulder and squeeze gently. With one touch, the feeble damn that had been holding back the waves of tears cracked wide open and Betty reached up to cover her face, ashamed of her ill-timed breakdown.

 

In one smooth motion, Jughead spun her around and cradled the back of her head as she pressed her face into his soft flannel shirt. An audible sob finally escaped her lips as she let it all flow out, listening to his quiet reassurances. He had one arm snaked around her lower back, holding her close and the other sunk into her long blonde locks, gently moving his fingers in small soothing motions.

 

Betty didn’t know how long the moment lasted. She was lost in the feeling of him, his arms wrapped around her and the soft material of his shirt catching every tear she shed. Her tears began to dry up and her breathing returned to normal but she couldn’t bring herself to pull back yet, afraid of what she must look like with mascara stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes. 

 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled into his chest. He tightened his hold on her, squeezing gently and rubbing slow circles on her side. She felt small in his arms, caged entirely in their strong grasp, protected, as if nothing could hurt her in that instant, not even the forces trying to from within her own body. 

 

“It’s okay Betty, really. I should be the one saying sorry.”

 

Betty eventually pulled back, untangling herself from his grasp and wiping the remnants of her meltdown from her cheeks. She shifted uneasily, unsure about what to say next. She knew he wanted to question her, dig for information she was nowhere near ready to share -  _ not today, not tomorrow, maybe not ever,  _ she thought.

 

“Hey, Betty…” 

 

“Yeah, Jug?” she asked cautiously, hoping he wasn’t trying to pry.

 

“Thanks for your help today. I really am taking this seriously. I uh-” he paused, “I need this to go well. I actually have a lot riding on this play too.”

 

“Good to know,” she said, the thin layer of outward exuberance making its way back into her facade. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

 

“Tomorrow,” he said seeming relieved, “yeah, I’ll be here tomorrow.”

 

He turned to leave, leaning down to grab his copy of the play that had somehow landed on the porch during her outburst before trudging down the front stairs.

 

“Wait!” she called as he neared the street, almost out of earshot. “How about we meet by the river? Maybe a change of scenery is what we both need.”

 

His lips quirked up with the hint of a smile and he nodded, “I’ll see you there at noon.”

 

Betty spun on her heels, facing the large oak door in front of her and took a deep breath before walking back inside, hoping enough time had passed to fade her reddened cheeks to a less noticeable pink hue. She didn’t want her mother to question her about that too. Alice was overbearing enough without worrying about who Betty spent her time with on top of everything else. 

 

Taking no chances, Betty bolted up the stairs and into her room. She had left her copy of the play on the front porch but decided it was safer to grab it later than to test her luck at going unnoticed. Although the house that should be reasonably large enough to conceal her, it seemed to betray her logic more often than not.

 

She pulled her journal out from its place under her mattress, even though she knew her mother was well aware of it’s ‘hidden’ location. She flipped to a blank page, smoothing her hand over the clean sheet and uncapping her pen. Writing was just as much a ritualistic comfort as a cathartic release for Betty, allowing her thoughts to spill freely from her fingertips onto the page. The paper didn’t criticize her or pity her, instead it simply absorbed her thoughts with each stroke of the pen, accepting them openly and without judgement.

 

_ Dear Diary, _

 

_ The doctor said my treatments aren’t working. The hepatitis is getting worse. They talked about putting me on the list for a liver transplant. ‘Hopeful’ was the word they used this time but the doctors looked anything but. They used to tell me they were ‘cautiously optimistic’... for it to degrade to ‘hopeful’ within a matter of weeks…. I don’t know what to think but my gut tells me it’s not good. How much longer do I have?  _

 

_ My classmates are worried about graduation, grades and getting into the right schools but all I can think about is how far away it is. I don’t even know if I’ll be up there with them or if I’ll already be six feet under, buried in a casket while they walk across the stage. _

 

_ No 18 year old should question their own mortality. What kind of sick joke is the universe playing on me now? _

 

Betty chewed on her pen cap, reading back her own words and wondering how her mother would attempt to bring this up in casual conversation tomorrow, as if Betty didn’t already know the moment she stepped foot out of her house Alice would dive for the book and devour every word she wrote.

 

She knew it came from a place of genuine concern. Her mother was worried about her, wounded already from the loss of her husband and clinging to her only child for dear life; praying every day that Betty wouldn’t be taken in the same cruel way.

 

Betty was only five when Hal died, barely old enough to ride a bike and on the cusp of kindergarten, mere weeks away from her start date. Hal had even gone shopping for her back to school clothes that summer, the same day he taught her how to free herself from the confines of her training wheels. She remembers it vividly, the moment that changed her life. 

 

_ It was her first ride without training wheels and she didn’t feel Hal pull his hands back as the wheels of her little bike wobbled. She made it a few feet down the road before registering her own independence. Triumphantly she turned back around, waving excitedly at her dad, underestimating the way her other arm would pull to the side, steering the bike off the path and tossing her from the seat. She wailed, watching the blood seep from her scrapes, until Hal came over. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her knee, coaxing her to calm down, murmuring something about kisses making everything better. _

 

Tears welled in her ducts as she attempted to blink them back at the memory.

  
He had had an undiagnosed case of Hepatitis B at the time, with no obvious signs or symptoms. The disease, they now knew, was already rampant in his body then, riddling him with fatal viruses and spreading past the point of treatment. 

 

At the time though, he thought he was helping, playing the role of superhero and healer, by picking her up and dusting off her knee and encouraging her to try again. And she did, falling once more before finally getting the hang of it, riding around the street until the lights came on that night. 

 

Alice’s guilt partially came from her own insistence against Betty being vaccinated as a child. Alice had been vaccinated against Hepatitis B when she was younger but Hal had not. As a first time parent, she thought she was doing the right thing, opting out of the vaccines that people had just began to say ‘caused autism’ and ‘stunted growth’. Confused by the lack of medical evidence for one side or another and just as ill informed as the masses at the time, despite her usual ability to investigate, Alice erred on what she thought was the side of caution. 

 

By the time  Hal was diagnosed, it was already too late. He went to the ER one night and found out within hours that his liver was shutting down and the rest of his organs would soon follow suit. 

 

He lasted one week.

 

It traumatized Betty as a child, to see her father burn out so quickly. He never left the hospital alive, spending his last few days clad in an unflattering robe as his skin tinged yellow. 

 

Betty’s pediatrician insisted she get tested and so they found that thanks to the simple swap of her father’s infected saliva, under the guise of a healing kiss, Betty had met what was, as of now, quickly becoming her match.

 

She sighed heavily, snapping the diary shut and returning it to its resting place under her mattress. She flopped down on her bed and brought her hands up to cover her face. 

 

_ Why me? _

 

-

 

Jughead seemed to have devoted a substantial amount of his night to running lines. While the acting portion still left something to be desired, at least the next day by the river, he seemed to know his lines and that was a good enough start.

 

They ran through their scenes a few times, each attempt getting just a little bit better before deciding to take a well-deserved break.

 

“Tell me Jughead, why are you spending your Sunday rehearsing with me? Don’t you have better things to do?” she asked, laid back in the grass with a hand behind her head, staring up at the clouds and deciding if she could see anything vaguely familiar in the spots of fluff in the sky.

 

“Better than this? There’s nothing better than  _ this _ Betts,” he jested, his voice thoroughly laced with sarcasm.

 

“Oh hush. I’m being serious. Why are you even here? Why do you care?” 

 

“It’s just something I have to do Betty. Let’s leave it at that,” he said softly, laying next to her in the same plush grass.

 

“No,” she decided, turning on her side and propping herself up on an elbow to face him. “No, I don't buy it. You’re Jughead Jones, apparent heir to the Serpent throne. You spend your weekends getting wasted with your friends and nights sneaking out. You’re an all around troublemaker, so why the sudden interest in a school play? I don’t get it.”

 

Jughead rolled over to face her, leaning on an elbow, mirroring her position. “Let me ask you this, Betty Cooper, why are you here? Don’t you have homeless people to feed and papers to write? Senior portfolios are due soon so why aren’t you home doing that? If we’re going to trade stereotypes here, isn’t it a lot less believable that you’re the one sitting down by Sweetwater River running lines with,” he paused, quirking an eyebrow at her, “a ‘troublemaker’ like me?”

 

She giggled in response. “Okay, fine. I get it. Apparently neither of us are as thorougly predictable as we thought.”

 

“I guess not,” he said simply, leaving the implications of the sentiment hanging heavily in the air.

 

Betty picked up her copy of the play, attempting to change the subject and refocus on the task at hand. She flipped the front cover and a piece of folded paper fell out. She quickly realized that it was her bucket list, a physical record of everything she wanted to accomplish during whatever little time she had left on this earth. Her eyes widened and she reached for the well-worn page but she wasn’t quite quick enough. 

 

Jughead grabbed the page and unfolded it, holding it just far enough away that Betty couldn’t snatch it back.

 

“What’s this little miss perfect? All  your hopes and dreams?” he joked.

 

“Jughead, give that back me,” Betty warned.

 

“No no, wait. #42 Befriend someone you don’t like,” he sounded amused as he looked over the page, catching her eye. “Is that me? Are we friends now?”

 

“Stop it. Give it back. It’s not yours,” Betty pled.

 

He saw the serious look in her eye, his teasing ways missing the mark by a mile. “Fine. Here. I was just kidding anyway.”

 

“It’s not a joke, Jughead,” Her tone was icy and her posture was stiff as she grabbed the list and shoved it into her pocket.

 

“Betty,” he began, his voice tinged with concern. “What was that?”

 

“It’s my list Jughead, if you must know.”

 

“Okay,” he laughed lightly. “I gathered that much by looking at it. What I meant was what is it for?”

 

“That’s none of your business. Are we going to rehearse or can I just go home?” She sounded exhausted, clearly triggered by his antics.

 

“I’m sorry, Betty,” he offered weakly, reaching a hand forward and resting it on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “I don’t mean to pry. I’m just a little worried about you after,” he paused retracting his hand, “you know, after what happened yesterday at your house. Is everything okay?”

 

“No,” she sighed, “everything is definitely not okay.”

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“No,” she said simply. “I really don’t. All my mom ever does is talk about it and I’m just really tired of talking,” she sighed, almost to herself.

 

“Ooookay then,” he drawled, clicking his tongue at the end. “I have an idea. Let’s do something.”

 

Betty shot him a skeptical glance, raising her eyebrow in question. “We’re supposed to be rehearsing. That’s the entire reason we’re out here.”

 

Jughead gave her a lopsided smile. “Ah, the script will still be there tomorrow. Let’s live a little, Betts. I think we both need a bit of fun in our lives.” He stood up  and reached a hand out, silently inviting her to take it. She still looked undecided as she slowly placed her hand in his and he pulled her up.

 

“What about all this stuff, Juggie?” she paused suddenly, her eyes widening, “I mean, Jug, Jughead. What about all of this stuff, Jughead?”

 

He laughed at her clear embarrassment. No one had ever called him that before and he found himself liking the way it sounded, casually slipping out from between her lips. “You didn't have to correct yourself, you know. I liked it and our stuff will be just fine. We don’t have to go far.”

 

Betty’s lips tilted up in a small smile as she ducked her head, trying to hide the blush that gently stained her cheeks.  _ She really was beautiful _ , he thought. Even though Betty was still dressed in her typical conservative wardrobe and her hair was tied up in the same trusty ponytail she’d worn since kindergarten, something about her seemed decidedly  _ different  _ that afternoon _.  _ He found himself looking at her in a way he never had before, struck by the way her blonde locks shone in the sunlight and the twinkle in her emerald eyes. 

 

“Let’s go swimming,” he finally said, breaking the tension that only thickened as they stood in silence. 

 

“I didn’t bring a suit, Jug.”

 

“Me neither,” he said with wink. 

 

Betty trapped her lower lip between her teeth, considering it for only a minute before nodding. “Fine, but you go first and don’t even think about looking until I’m neck deep in the water.” Her tone was firm but her smile was soft and he couldn’t help the way his lips tugged up at the corners. 

 

“You got it.”

 

He stripped down to his boxers, leaving his clothes in a trail toward the river. Betty watched, peeking through the fingers that were covering her face. She tried her hardest not to, but when she caught a glimpse of the expanse of olive toned skin covering his back she just couldn’t help herself, widening the gap between her fingers and drinking in the image of the muscles on his back flexing as he shed his shirt. She clamped her fingers back together, returning her eyes to the darkness, as he took his pants off. She heard the splash of his feet hitting the water and then silence.

 

“You can look now, Betts,” he called from the water, a surprising distance between them already. “I mean you could have looked the whole time but now’s good too.”

 

Betty rolled her eyes at him and spun her finger in a circle, signaling for him to turn around. He smiled and sunk into the water, reemerging faced in the opposite direction.

 

“Don’t peek,” she called, pulling off her jeans. She shrugged off her cardigan and ventured toward the water, toying with the idea of leaving her camisole on the bank too before deciding better of it. It was bad enough she only had three pieces of clothing on, her thin white camisole and matching pale pink underwear set. It was at least modest, complete with a relatively covering bra and boyshorts, but it was still less clothing than she had ever worn around anyone else. 

 

The water was warm as she waded out into it, stopping a few feet from Jughead and paddling to stay up. They were about half way out in the river and neither could feel the bottom. 

 

“You can look now,” she said playfully, knowing he was already well aware she was safely in the water but appreciating the fact that he hadn’t turned around yet.

 

He sunk down into the water again as she began to get nervous.  _ Did he not want to see her? Was he going to play a trick on her? Was this all just some kind of joke? Did he- _

 

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted as she felt a tug on her legs, dragging her under just as she took a breath of air. She found him underwater and pushed him playfully as he released his grip on her leg. They both surfaced laughing, shaking the water from their eyes. 

 

“Are you trying to kill me, Betts?”

 

“I should be asking you the same thing,” she giggled.

 

“I wasn’t the one manhandling someone underwater,” he jested.

 

“You’re the one who pulled me down there to start with!”

 

He shrugged in nonchalance as they smiled at each other, neither knowing what to say next. 

 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Betty finally broke the silence.

 

“I’m offended,” he said mockingly, clutching a hand over his chest with a look of feigned outrage on his face, “Didn’t we establish earlier that we were now friends?” His quip made her giggle again and roll her eyes. “Besides, you’re not the worst company in the world, Betts.” His tone was light, not even a hint of sarcasm to be found. 

 

“You’re not either, Juggie,” she added almost shyly.

 

They both kicked their legs, suspended in the water and Betty had an idea. She shot her arms forward, surprising him with a wave of water that covered his face before she quickly swam away. He caught up with her in seconds, wrapping an arm around her waist and dragging her back, plunging them both into the water again as their laughs echoed through the trees surrounding the river. 

 

The played around in the water for a little while longer, feeling like kids on the first day of summer. Betty felt lighter than she had in a while, no looming sense of dread in the back of her mind, no talks about surgery and transplants and life expectancy. Just a girl and a boy playing in the river on a sunny afternoon.

 

Betty got out first as Jughead dutifuly turned around, letting her redress herself before he looked. When he got out she did the same, turning around to gather their things as he covered up the lean muscles on his chest, the same ones she caught a glimpse of as he exited the water only a moment ago. 

 

“You about ready to go?” 

 

His voice was close, closer than she expected as she grabbed the last of their things, standing up. They were less than a foot apart, close enough for her to see the way his T-shirt clung to his chest, stuck there by the water still dripping off of his skin. She looked for longer than she intended to, unable to tear her gaze away for a few long moments before finally turning and clearing her throat, attempting to refocus.

 

“Yeah. I mean, yes. I mean, uh, let’s get out of here,” she stumbled, cursing herself for the awkward exchange and hoping he hadn’t seen the way her eyes were glued to his defined chest.

 

It was surprisingly easy to spend time with Jughead. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, jab for jab as he held his own against her sharp remarks. He insisted on driving her home, citing the late afternoon as an ‘especially dangerous’ time to walk alone. She knew he was full of it, Riverdale was about the safest place there was and even if it hadn’t been, Sunday afternoon wasn’t exactly a high crime time of day, but she agreed anyway. 

 

They fought over the radio for a few minutes. He’d turn on some alternative band and she’d flip the station back over to a pop song. They went back and forth over and over again before he finally threw his hands up, signaling defeat. “I forfeit,” he said with feigned disappointment.

 

“Thank you,” she replied sweetly.

 

The rest of the car ride was spent with Betty quietly singing along to each song that would come on. Her voice was melodic, even though he could barely hear it over the radio itself. He knew there would be a song in the play, they just hadn’t rehearsed it yet and he found himself wondering how she would sound, angelic being the only word that came to mind. 

 

-

 

The next morning at school Betty sought out Jughead, holding his copy of the play she had wrapped up in the blanket the day before. He was standing by his locker, surrounded by his fellow serpents as Betty approached, clearing her throat to get their attention. The others looked at her questioningly as Jughead turned around, clearly surprised by her presence.

 

“Here,” she chirped, reaching forward to hand him the script. “You forgot this yesterday and if we have any hope of you knowing your lines in a few weeks you’re going to need it.” She was smiling brightly, a sharp contrast to the leather clad group in front of her.

 

He grabbed it from her hands and turned around, muttering ‘thanks’ under his breath before resuming the conversation with his friends. Betty stood there for a minute, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, struck by his sudden change in demeanor in less than 24 hours. 

 

He glanced back over his shoulder and looked at her, his eyebrows raised in question. “You can go now,” he said dismissively, turning around again as she felt the heat rise to her cheeks, surely staining them a deep crimson. 

 

Betty swiftly turned around and disappeared down the hallway. She found safety in the comfort of the empty Blue and Gold office before she allowed the tears that had been threatening to spill down her cheeks take their rightful path. 

 

-

 

That afternoon, after she got home from school her mother was nowhere to be seen. She plopped down on her bed, allowing herself to replay the exchange in the hallway from that morning over again. He was so cold, putting on a facade in front of his friends, as if he was too cool to talk to the likes of her and she groaned, burying her face in the pillow at the memory.  _ Where had the boy from the river gone? After their day together and his comforting words, why would he still act like she was insignificant.  _

 

The doorbell rang and Betty trudged down the stairs, expecting to find a solicitor or the mailman. She hadn’t expected to see Jughead standing on her porch, his beanie wrung between his hands as she opened it. 

 

“Can I help you or is someone watching? I don't exactly know how to act around you right now.”

 

“Listen, Betty, what we have,” he paused, “I mean, what we’ve been doing is fun. But not all of my friends will get it, you know?”

 

Betty drew her lips into a thin line, waiting for him to continue.

 

“We can still hang out and rehearse and hell, if you wanted to go to the river again I’m there, but while we’re at school, we just can’t talk. It’ll be like we’re friends, just without everyone else knowing about it.”

 

Betty couldn’t believe what she was hearing, hurt by his idea and angry he even had the audacity to suggest it.  _ Fine _ , she thought, she’d play along and see how far he was willing to take it. “You mean like we’d be secret friends?” Her voice was sickeningly sweet, playing right into his hand and and he smiled at her, nodding in affirmation.

 

“That’s it! Exactly, it’s like you’re reading my mind,” he said excitedly.

 

“Well then maybe you can read mine.” Betty’s smile was anything but genuine as she stared at him. He seemed almost hopeful until her face fell, settling into an indiscernible expression, something resembling hurt laced with annoyance gracing her features before she spun around and walked to the door. She threw it open, her annoyance now flaring and more than obvious as she left a slack jawed Jughead still firmly on the porch. She turned around again to face him, just inside of the door frame and sighed heavily. “You know, I thought I saw something in you Jughead, something good. But I was wrong.”

 

The door slammed and Betty leaned back against it, sighing heavily before noticing her mother standing by the window. Alice must have come through the back door at some point during the exchange, or maybe she had been there the whole time and Betty just hadn’t noticed. She didn’t really care. She was sure Alice had seen the whole thing based solely on the smile that was creeping up her cheeks.

 

“I always knew that Jones boy was no good, Betty. I’m proud of how you are handling yourself,” her mother cooed.

 

Betty felt tears prick at the edges of her eyes and willed them to stay in, not ready to show her mom how terribly she was actually handling it all. 

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endless thanks to my fic partner in crime on this one (who is also my AMAZING beta for it) @a92vm.
> 
> Are you guys starting to see the little differences? What do you think of Riverdale meets A Walk to Remember?  
> Let me know in the comments!


	3. (Not So) Friendly Faces

Jughead knew he fucked up. When the door slammed in his face earlier that afternoon he realized just how badly he had fucked up. 

 

The next morning at school, after a long night spent wallowing in his own self loathing, he spotted her in the hallway. Their eyes connected for a brief second before she looked down and hugged her books a little bit tighter. She turned down a hallway and he found his feet carrying him after her, ignoring the curious calls from Sweet Pea and Toni.

 

“Betty,” he called, catching up to her in front of the Blue and Gold door. “Hey, slow down. I just wanted to-”

 

“No, Jughead. Save it. I don’t want to talk to you right now. Go back to your friends.”

 

For the second time in just as many days, she slammed a door in his face and he sighed heavily, kicking himself for being such an ass the day before. He still wasn’t sure what she wanted from him. They hadn’t talked in the hallways before their rehearsals, never been deemed friends or anything remotely close to ‘friendly.’ But even Jughead could admit that their afternoon by the river had started to change something between them. Somewhere between the thickly wooded treeline and the bank at the far side of the river, they found their common ground. He felt  _ something  _ shift between them and he couldn’t deny it, at least not to himself. 

 

He didn’t see her again until lunch time that day. The Serpents were hanging around the senior lockers and Sweet Pea was droning on about his upcoming weekend plans when she rounded the corner, arm in arm with none other than Veronica Lodge herself. Based on the piercing way Veronica’s eyes were boring into him, he guessed Betty had told her all about his stupid proposition. 

 

“Look who it is,” Sweet Pea spoke suddenly. “The Park Avenue Princess and our very own Plain Jane, what an odd combination,” Sweet Pea jested. “Now tell me why a fine looking woman like you Veronica would willingly spend time with boring Betty Cooper. Come take a walk on the wild side with me.”

 

Before Jughead could speak up, Betty’s eyes locked with his own, stunning him silent as he took in the hurt etched on her features. Veronica looked more than simply pissed off, pure unadulterated fury settling over her.

 

“Fuck off, Sweet Pea,” Veronica hissed as they approached. “I wouldn’t roll in the dirt with any of you filthy serpents even if my life depended on it and don’t you dare say another word about my gorgeous best friend. She’s a total smokeshow and if you can’t see that, well maybe you’re even dumber than I thought.”

 

Sweet Pea leaned forward from his perch on the locker, throwing a hand out and blocking the girls’ path. The other serpents looked on in amusement, clearly getting some sick joy from the exchange. Jughead was getting more and more irritated by the moment and finally snapped.

 

“Leave them the fuck alone Sweet Pea,” he growled, pulling his friend’s arm back and shoving him into the locker.

 

“What the fuck is your deal, Jug? You sweet on your new co-star?”

 

“As if Betty would even take a second look at you, Jones,” Veronica said, her voice laced with malintent and her eyes burning into him in a way that made him feel like he was on fire. “You’re fucking trash and my girl is gold.”

 

“That’s harsh, V,” Betty finally spoke up. “Just because he’s not man enough to stand up to his friends doesn’t make him trash. It just makes him weak.”

 

Jughead’s jaw dropped. He knew she was mad at him and she had defended him somewhat, but the underlying implication that only the two of them were aware of cut him deeply. She was right. Jughead Jones, Southside Serpent, senior at Riverdale High, and all around resident bad boy was  _ weak.  _

 

“Let’s go Betty,” Veronica said, breaking through the air that was so thick with tension Jughead thought he might suffocate. “We don’t associate with lowlife snakes anyway. They’re not worth our time.”

 

Betty and Veronica strolled leisurely to the cafeteria, leaving two slack jawed serpents standing in the hallway, surrounded by their friends who were still snickering at the verbal defeat.

 

Sweet Pea turned around and slammed his first into the locker, a deep growl erupting from his chest. “FUCK!” he exclaimed, “I would fucking destroy her man,” he said surprisingly. 

 

Jughead looked at Sweet Pea questioningly, carefully observing his friend as he winked at Jughead. Maybe he wasn’t the only one fascinated by the enigma that was a ‘good girl’. Though Betty Cooper arguably fit that description much better than Veronica, Veronica was about as close to a ‘good girl’ as Sweet Pea might ever get.

 

-

 

That afternoon in rehearsals, Betty was still cold to Jughead. Her and Veronica were glued at the hip every chance they got onstage and off.  She found comfort in having her best friend by her side, even if she was selfishly using her as a human shield from Jughead.

 

He seemed surprise at her tenacity in the hallway and she counted that as a win. She wanted to shake him, to hurt him, or at least to make him realize how wrong he had been about her. Past the stereotypes she thought they had worked through at the river, she knew he was more than he let on. Or at least she  _ thought  _ she knew. 

 

Veronica left the school in her town car with a wave as Betty walked to her old beat up family station wagon. She didn’t get to drive it often but she suspected her mom’s most recent willingness to let her drive it all the time had something to do with her mother’s guilt. She could get away with almost anything these days.

 

A hand landed squarely on her shoulder, startling her and causing the car keys to fall from her grasp .

 

“Betty,” she heard a familiar voice say. “Listen, I’m sorry.”

 

“Actions speak louder than words, Jughead,” she said softly, turning around to lean against her car and looking up at him. It had been hard avoiding him all day. Even though they hadn’t spent much time around each other, Betty really did enjoy his company, that was before his  asinine request of keeping their friendship under wraps. But being mad at him was quite frankly exhausting.

 

“I know, Betty. I’m really sorry.”

 

“I don’t believe you, Jughead. You say this now but even today in the hall you didn’t have the gall to speak up for me. You say one thing but do another. You say you want to be my friend, but we’re not friends. We’re merely acquaintances and I don’t have time to waste on someone who doesn’t think I’m worth knowing.” She felt lighter as soon as the words tumbled from her lips. She needed to say it, even if it was jumbled up and unclear as to what her definition of ‘time’ really meant, she needed to tell him that she truly didn’t have time to waste. Not as ‘secret friends’ anyway.

 

“What can I do?” he nearly begged, his features soft and his expression earnest.

 

“Nothing, Jughead,” she sighed. “There’s nothing you can do.”

 

“Betty-” he reached forward and placed a hand at the crook of her neck, his fingers teasing the hairline and his thumb barely grazing her jaw, “-I like spending time with you. I don’t care if the serpents know. You said you thought you saw something good in me and honestly, I’ve never had anyone tell me that before,” he laughed lightly, “Please, I’m not ready for whatever this is to end.”

 

She looked up at him with wide eyes, searching his face for any hint of malice or half truths. Her search came up empty. Instead he was staring at her, slowly rubbing the pad of his thumb over her cheek and she leaned into it, relishing in the calming affect his touch alone provided. “Okay,” she said softly, “I like spending time with you too. But Jughead,” she paused looking down and taking in a deep breath, hoping to absorb some abstract courage from the air, “I can’t be anyone’s secret. I don’t deserve that. So if we’re going to be friends, let’s be friends.”

 

“Okay,” he said simply, as if it was truly that easy. His hand fell back to his side as the corners of his lips quirked up in a playful smile. “Let’s be friends. Are you hungry?”

 

“What?” she asked “You’re thinking of food right now? We just had a full pizza in rehearsals and a snack table that I’m pretty sure I saw you pilfering from during breaks.”

 

“Were you watching me Coop?” he teased. “I’ll have you know I’m a growing boy with an endless appetite.”

 

“Are you now?” she giggled.

 

“I am. You never have to ask me if I’m hungry, my answer will always be yes. The question now is are you hungry?”

 

Betty stared at him for a long moment, in awe of his ability to switch gears. As if their startlingly intimate moment hadn’t just happened, teasing her as if they really were friends.

 

“You know what, sure. What do you have in mind?”

 

“Oh, Betts. You’re just going to have to trust me,” he added a wink at the end, earning him a blush from her in return as she ducked her head. “Your car or mine?”

 

“Well, seeing as how you took your motorcycle today,” she said, pointing to the bike in question on the other side of the lot. “I think it’s safe to say I’ll drive.” 

 

“Have it your way Betts, just know you’re missing out,” he teased. In the back of his mind he couldn’t shake the words ‘ride a motorcycle’. It had been on her bucket list and for some reason he wanted desperately to be the one she clung to as they sped through the streets. One of the perks of the motorcycle had always been the forced proximity it afforded him with his dates, and while Betty wasn’t his date by any means, he hoped one day that just might change.

 

Jughead trudged up the trailer steps well after ten pm. He and Betty had gone to a taco place over in Greendale. She made a comment about him wanting to keep her hidden based on the long drive and he nearly turned around right then before she laughed it off, assuring him she would take him up on the Pop’s offer another time.

 

The trailer was mercifully empty as he laid down on his bed, the image of green eyes dancing behind his lids as he drug his hands over his face and let out a deep groan. He had never been so taken by anyone before. Jughead dated around a bit, never anything serious and nothing long term. But Betty was different, in every way she could be.

 

He pulled his phone open, finding his buried Facebook app and opening it for the first time in ages. His barren profile stared at him as he clicked on the search bar and typed in Betty’s name. Her image appeared on his screen and he hovered his thumb over it for a minute, taking in the sight of her smiling brightly at what appeared to be someone’s party. Her trademark pastel cardigan adorned her shoulders and her hair was tied up in the typical ponytail, but he was fixated on the image of her mouth pulled into the widest grin he had ever seen from her. She looked so happy. He spent the better part of the next two hours wading through her profile, even going so far as to look through all of the tagged pictures. Locking his phone and tossing it on his bed he covered his face once more, groaning loudly as he drug his fingers down his cheeks. He was in trouble.

 

Wednesday morning rolled around and Betty was surprised to find Jughead waiting for her outside of the Blue and Gold office. He looked distracted, fiddling with his phone. He was wearing another pair of his typical dark jeans and faded t-shirt but the heavy leather jacket was distinctly missing from his shoulders, the serpent logo folded inward and laying over his arm. 

 

She cleared her throat as she walked up to the door to unlock it, breaking him from his thoughts. He fumbled with his phone, locking it quickly and shoving it in his pocket.

 

“Good morning,” she greeted.

 

“Good morning to you too Betts,” he said with a smile. 

 

“Where are all the other snakes? Or are you just laying low in the tall grass of Riverdale High this morning?” she teased, still surprised he was openly talking to her in the middle of the hallway.

 

“Not laying low,” he corrected. “Just wanted a change of scenery this morning.”

 

“Oh,” she squeaked, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

 

The door opened and she slipped inside, followed closely by Jughead. He closed it behind them and despite their now comfortable banter, she couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous. Betty was unpacking her laptop at her desk when she snuck a glance over at him. He was over by another desk, thumbing through previous issues of the Blue and Gold and her eyes settled on the way his arms flexed with each movement. The way his head leaned down allowed the one persistently unruly curl to flop down over his forehead in such a way that she found herself itching to tuck it back.

 

“See anything you like?” she asked, attempting to break the silence that had settled in the room along with them.

 

He glanced up at her, the edge of his lip twitching upward almost as if he would smile, before he shook his head a bit and returned his gaze to the stack of papers. He pulled one out and flipped it open, turning to rest against the wooden desk.

 

“Maybe.” His voice was smooth, cool, calm, and collected and Betty thought it was a stark contrast to how she was feeling in that moment. The way he so casually draped himself on the edge of the desk, one foot crossed over the other as his hip leaned against the hard wood made him look statuesque, as if his sharp features were carved out of stone. His expression gave nothing away as the pages turned.

 

Betty didn’t know what came over her. Maybe it was the privacy of the office, maybe it was the way her skin tingled with the memory of his previous contact, maybe it was simply a bad decision, but she found herself wandering over to him. 

 

“What are you looking at?” she asked softly while leaning against the desk next to him and peering over to the issue in his hands. He tilted the page toward her and she saw an editorial written her first year on the Blue and Gold. It was about the inequality of funding to the school system and the ramifications of such injustices. But despite the heavy subject matter he appeared so engrossed in, she couldn’t seem to keep her thoughts straight.

 

She was so close she could smell him and it was positively intoxicating, the way he somehow smelled of worn leather, even with his jacket on the other side of the room. He smelled like remnants of the fabric mixed with faint hints of something natural, possibly pine. The scent reminded her of something clean and yet her thoughts were just a bit dirty all at the same time. 

 

The closeness was almost overwhelming as her arm pressed against his and their hips were separated by nearly nothing, only a few centimeters of air between them. Even though her gaze was fixed on the paper, she could feel his eyes as they settled on her. Chancing a peek upward, her suspicisons were confirmed when their eyes met. 

 

She was captivated. 

 

Being so close to him over the last few days, on more than one occasion, had afforded Betty a glimpse into who Jughead Jones really was. She saw him in a way she had somehow missed in all of their years spent orbiting around each other. He was far from the stereotypes she had always labeled him with. Instead of the flat view of him as simply a ‘bad influence’ or ‘damaged outsider’, she saw a depth in him she never would have guessed was there, a goodness wedged deep down, nearly invisible unless he wanted it to be seen.

 

The bell rang and Betty separated herself from him, edging off the desk and inhaling the wisps of his scent that followed her. 

 

“Want me to walk you to class?” he asked almost sheepishly.

 

Betty was dumbfounded by the shift in events, nodding mutely while her thoughts circled back to just days before when he was asking for a ‘secret friendship’. She ducked her head and sucked in her cheeks, hoping to calm the broad smile that she couldn’t seem to hold back despite her best efforts.

 

“Aren’t you worried about being seen with me?” she asked softly. Her hand was on the door and she almost turned it before turning around instead, keeping them in the privacy of the room for just a moment longer. 

 

“Aren’t you worried about being seen with me?” he retorted, quirking an eyebrow at her as he stared down.

 

“It might ruin my reputation,” she teased, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she smirked. He smiled at her and she felt butterflies dancing in her stomach, fluttering away at  pace that matched her heightened pulse. “But I’d be willing to tarnish it a little bit.”

 

“You lead the way,” he said with an easy smile, holding his hand out toward the door.

 

Walking down the hallway, they both fielded sideways glances from various groups. Everyone seemed stunned and Betty couldn’t help but smile. A small part of her worried what the serpents were going to say when and if they crossed paths. She didn’t have to worry long. As they approached her first class she finally heard it. 

 

“Slumming it are we, Jones?” Sweet Pea snickered.

 

“Back off, Pea. I don’t give you grief about the trash I see you with so just move along There’s nothing to see here.”

 

In a surprising move, Jughead slung his arm around Betty’s shoulders and she froze. The weight of his leather clad arm was nothing compared to the weight the gesture carried. She knew it meant he was marking her, protecting her, not just with his words but with his actions and once again, she was surprised by Jughead Jones. He was so far from the person she had always imagined him to be that it was nearly laughable.

 

“Oh, I think there’s plenty to see,” Sweet Pea jested, clamping a hand over Jughead’s other shoulder and shaking it lightly. He turned to look at Betty and she felt a shiver run down her spine. “Don’t worry honey, he’ll dump you once he collects that precious ‘V’ card, it’s typical Jug-”

 

“You better stop right there Pea or I’ll make sure you don’t say another word for quite some time.” Jughead’s tone was firm, one he had never used with her and she was taken aback by the quick shift in his attitude. 

 

Sweet Pea held his hands up as he backed away, apparently unwilling to push Jughead past the point of no return. His arm was still securely around her shoulders once the serpents were out of sight. She turned to look at him and reached up her own hand to lay atop his.

 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

 

He didn’t audibly respond, instead squeezing her shoulder gently before retracting his arm as they went their separate ways to class.

 

After the final bell rang for the day, Jughead burst through the classroom doors, hoping for a few minutes of reprieve before that afternoon’s rehearsals. He scanned the area in search of Betty but no hint of her bouncing blonde ponytail was visible among the sea of students swarming the hallway. 

 

Everyone was staring at their phones, which wouldn’t have been very different than most days if the chorus of snickers and gasps weren’t accompanying their shocked faces. His own phone vibrated in his pocket and he quickly retrieved it, opening up the instagram notification from Sweet Pea. It was a video tagged at Riverdale High and the views were rapidly climbing as it loaded onto his screen.

 

What Jughead saw next shocked him, leaving his mouth agape and his body rooted to its spot as the swarm of students seem to  move around him in slow motion. It was a video of Sweet Pea following Betty down the hall, it looked to be earlier that day around lunchtime. Jughead saw a piece of paper come into view, apparently in Sweet Pea’s grasp. He handed it to Betty and her face fell in such a way that Jughead felt an uncomfortable clench deep in his chest. She looked broken and confused, her eyes darting between the camera and the paper before glossing over with heavy tears that spilled from her cheeks within seconds. She turned and ran, books and bag in hand through the open doors before the camera focused on the page. It was an admittedly well photoshopped picture of Betty’s head on what appeared to be a porn star’s body. The words ‘(Not So) Virginal Vixen’ were scrawled in thick black ink in Sweet Pea’s signature chicken scratch on the page. Jughead locked his phone and tucked it back in his pocket, the rage bubbling up inside of him as his boots stomped down the hallway in search of his ‘friends’.

 

He spotted the serpents gathered around their bikes, just outside of the school doors and Jughead moved with purpose toward them. No words were exchanged as Jughead’s fist met Sweet Pea’s jaw. The loud crack of impact echoed between the group around them, the only other sounds to be heard were muffled gasps. 

 

Jughead didn’t wait for anyone to say a word, instead making his way to his own bike on the edge of the lot and mounting it with ease. His back tire spun, leaving a heavy line of rubber on his way out of the parking lot as he sped to Betty’s house. The missed rehearsal was the least of his worries as the images of Betty, tears welled in her eyes burned into his mind. 

 

The bike skidded to a stop in her driveway as he got off before the kickstand even hit the pavement. He saw her slumped over on the porch swing and his feet couldn’t carry him fast enough as he pulled his helmet off on his way up the steps and made his way over to her. She hadn’t looked up even though he knew she heard the bike and the unmistakable sound of his boots thumping on the porch. He slowly dropped to his knees, setting his helmet to the side before reaching for the hands that covered her face.

 

“Betty,” he said softly, tugging at her wrists, “look at me, please.”

 

She let her hands fall into his, still wet from the tears flowing from her ducts as he laced their fingers together. “I’m so sorry about Sweet Pea. Betty, you have to know that I had nothing to do with that. I don’t know why he-”

 

“It’s okay, Jug. I know it wasn’t you,” she mumbled, her eyes still downcast.

 

“Look at me Betty,” he pleaded. She raised her head slowly, her tears now dripping down her cheeks instead of flowing and he felt utterly helpless. “They’re jerks,” he spoke softly, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. 

 

“I know, Jug.”

 

“I punched him for you, if that helps.” She laughed lightly at his words, a hint of a smile playing at the edge of her lips and he felt a wave of relief wash over him. 

 

“It doesn’t but thank you.” Her voice was soft and her tears were nearly dried on her cheeks as she held his gaze. His thumb was still stroking her knuckles but his knees were beginning to ache from the hard wood beneath them.

 

Jughead stood slowly, pulling her up with him as a confused expression settled on her features. He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders without a word as he felt her arms slide around his waist. Betty tucked her head underneath his chin and squeezed him gently, burrowing her face into his chest. 

 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into her hair, placing a light kiss on top of her head, letting his lips linger there for a moment too long.

 

She didn’t say anything as she crushed his shirt between her fingers and held onto him tighter. They stood like that for a long time, silence surrounding them with only the sounds of their breaths filling the void as the minutes ticked by. 

 

She felt so small in his arms, so fragile, and it made his heart ache that she was hurting so badly because of him. None of this ever would have happened if he hadn’t burst into her life so unapologetically, like a hurricane blowing through and uprooting everything she had known. She had done the same to him though, spinning his preconceived notions on their axis with her soft smiles and shared secrets down by the riverbank that fateful day. 

 

Not only had something shifted between them in a short time, but something had also shifted within him, and Jughead felt as if he was seeing everything with a fresh set of eyes. She was an enigma wrapped in soft pastel with a slicked back ponytail and he was helpless to stop himself from trying to figure her out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to @a92vm for providing a second set of eyes and a plethora of ideas and inspiration! This fic wouldn't exist without you and your encouragement so thank you <3
> 
> Come find me on Tumblr @bugggghead
> 
> Comments always appreciated! Feedback is my FAVORITE part!!! <3


	4. I Dare You (to Move)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @a92vm for literally everything. You have been instrumental in this fic in every single facet & I appreciate you more than you know. 
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter has both of our favorite scenes so far and the scene that was actually plotted first so I hope you love it as much as I do! Thanks for reading. <3 - K

*

 

 

Two weeks flew by  as Jughead and Betty spent more and more time together. Between rehearsals at the school, running lines at Pop’s, and hanging out in the Blue and Gold office, nearly all of their spare time had been eaten up with each other. 

 

Jughead found it increasingly difficult to keep his distance from Betty. With each accidental brush of their fingers or bump of their shoulders, he found his mind venturing into more dangerous territory. He had all but abandoned the Serpents after their sickening display with Betty; their unapologetic behavior had tipped him over the edge. She was quite possibly the best person he had ever know, truly beautiful from the inside out, and if his friends weren’t willing to at least try and see that for his sake, well maybe they weren’t great friends to begin with.

 

One rainy afternoon, a few weeks before the play, Fangs was finally released from the hospital. Jughead and Betty had originally planned to run lines together that day at Pop’s, two cheeseburgers and milkshakes already on the agenda, but when he got the call from Fangs, Betty insisted he should go to the Fogarty’s trailer instead. 

 

Jughead had foolishly ridden his motorcycle to school that day, despite the impending downpour, so Betty casually volunteered to drive, claiming he’d be no good to her for the play if he was sick at home with a cold. He easily gave in, looking for any excuse to spend as much time as possible in her presence; he was hooked on her, the way her ‘take no shit’ attitude contrasted so sharply with her soft and pure facade. While he wasn’t sure he could say he had figured out exactly what made Betty tick, he really was trying to get to the bottom of it. 

 

The pulled up and Jughead instantly opened his door, pulling the handle in a rush and stepping out into the rain before noticing that Betty was still glued to the front seat, hands wringing the wheel as if she didn’t know what else to do with them.

 

“You coming?” he said with an easy smile, leaning down into the car and lingering behind despite the onslaught of droplets pummeling his jacket.

 

“I’ll give you some time alone,” she said hesitantly, her grip so strong on the wheel that her knuckles were turning white.

 

“Betttttyyy, come on,” he drawled. “Come in with me. I’m getting soaked out here.” He shook his head, droplets of water falling haphazardly to each side and she laughed, finally loosening her hands and unbuckling her seatbelt. He rushed over to her side, shedding his jacket and throwing it over her door as it opened, shielding her from the downpour and placing a steady hand on her lower back to guide her through the puddles forming in the gravel. They shuffled to the door and knocked, rushing inside as soon as the door was open. 

 

“Fangs,” Jughead breathed, wrapping his friend in a bear hug before backing off when he was met with a whimper. “Shit, sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m just so happy to see you under something other than the hospital’s fluorescents.”

 

“Thanks for that by the way,” Fangs said. “No one else came to the hospital to see me and I swear I would have gone crazy if I was left to stare at those white walls for another day.”

 

The two friends laughed, a deep bond evident between them as they exchanged understanding looks. Betty couldn’t have known about all the times Jughead had unloaded on Fangs throughout the years, late nights filled with long talks and emotional moments between the friends. Fangs was one of the very few people that over the years was steadfast for Jughead and he appreciated their friendship more than Fangs would ever know.

 

“Ahem,” Fangs cleared his throat, limping over to the couch before plopping down haphazardly and letting out a groan. “Betty Cooper, right?” he asked as Jughead realized the girl in question was still standing awkwardly by the door, wringing her hands together and averting her gaze.

 

“Yeah, shit. Sorry. Fangs, Betty. Betty, Fangs,” he introduced, cupping Betty’s elbow and steering her into the living room. 

 

They exchanged pleasantries and easily fell into conversation, catching Fangs up on the events at school and with the other Serpents. Betty was surprised that Fangs seemed nearly unfazed by the way Jughead recounted the hallway incident and the embarrassing video. Fangs occasionally shot glances at Betty, his features soft and surprisingly sympathetic. Hours passed as the two friends welcomed a third into the fold and Betty felt strangely at ease in the rundown trailer on the outskirts of the trailer park. 

 

That evening, as they drove back to the school, Betty found herself dreading the moment she would be dropping him off. When she was with Jughead, he made her feel  _ almost  _ normal. Very few people in Betty’s life knew about her condition and those that did always handled her delicately, as if she was prone to break at any moment. 

 

As the car rolled down the road, soft music streaming through the speakers, Betty found herself singing along quietly, a habit she couldn’t break if she tried - and she had. 

 

_ I dare you to move _

_ I dare you to move _

_ I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor _

_ I dare you to move  _

_ I dare you to move _

_ Like today never happened _

_ Today never happened before _

 

Betty’s voice slid over his ears and seeped into him, as if coating his rough leather in a thin layer of silk. Rehearsals had been going well, he might even say he was a half decent actor if he hadn’t seen Betty perform time and time again. She was magical up on that stage. To others, she looked like a thoroughly predictable ‘good girl’ with mild manners and crisp clothes; but he had begun to notice the other facets of her, the ones that weren’t merely visible to the naked eye. She came alive in the theater, under the burning fluorescents, draping every fiber of her being in the role and Jughead was awestruck by the sight, no matter how many times he had seen it before. 

 

There were only two weeks left before opening night and Jughead was already wondering if that would mean the end of their time together too. He hoped it wouldn’t. He even dared to say he thought it  _ might _ not, but his endless teasing and flirtations had very little effect on her from his standpoint. Other than the occasional blush and witty comeback, she didn’t indulge him in the flirtations, simply laughing them off and moving on. 

 

It wasn’t that Jughead wasn’t good with women, they had always been  _ very _ interested in him so he never had to try too hard. He had never been brushed off when he flirted with a girl, especially not as many times as Betty had. Sure, they had gotten closer over the last few weeks and occasionally he did catch her staring at him, or laying  a hand on his arm in comfort; but those were perfectly friendly gestures and, if her lack of response to his teasing was any indicator, she was simply too polite to tell him to stop.

 

When she finally pulled into the school parking lot that night, he caught the way Betty trapped her lip between her teeth, clamping down slightly in apparent thought. Her knuckles were tight around the steering wheel, turning white as she twisted her hands. 

 

He decided to break the silence, clearing his throat as he said, “Thank you.”

 

She looked over at him, snapping out of her reverie as the corners of her lips twitched upward for a brief second, the smallest hint of smile playing at the edges. Looking into his eyes, she seemed at a loss for words.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said after a long pause. Betty nodded, clearly still wrapped up in whatever train of thought was currently holding her hostage.

 

He wanted to push her, to ask her why she was so silent. He knew she volunteered to go with him to Fangs’ out of more than simply kindness. She could have dropped him off, could have left him to ride in the rain, could have even called him a cab, but she didn’t. Instead, she offered to take him, went inside the trailer, spent time with Jughead and his oldest friend. The camaraderie came easy and he hung on every word she spoke inside that dingy old trailer. To think, even for a second, that she was capable of being more than his tutor, more than his friend, more than he could even fathom, was practically impossible and Jughead huffed out a breath before she even said a word.

 

The windows in the cab were fogged over, the rain was coming down heavy and the temperature outside was far cooler than the furnace currently encasing them. Between the words left unspoken and the heavy breaths from them both, fog clung to the glass, as if stuck right on the slick surface and Jughead couldn’t see ten feet in front of him as he sat in the parking lot.

 

His mind was racing as she was painfully silent. He just wanted to know that things were okay, that he hadn’t scared her off by pulling her into his circle just a bit further. No matter who he had dated in the past, Jughead had never willingly brought them into the fold of his life as quickly as he was attempting to bring Betty. 

 

He didn’t know exactly when it happened, but somewhere along the way he started to notice. With every glance in her direction or secret smile he saw, he felt himself changing, slowly morphing into someone he didn’t even recognize. As if her mere presence was enough to awaken a part of him he didn’t know existed. As if that part may have existed just for her. 

 

He cleared his throat again before speaking, curiosity simply getting the better of him. “A penny for your thoughts?” he asked softly.

 

Her eyes went wide and her teeth released the abused skin of her bottom lip, the same skin he kept thinking it must be impossibly soft.

 

“I’m just nervous about the play,” she squeaked.

 

“The play? Really? You seemed pretty deep in thought to be ruminating over a play that’s two weeks out.”

 

“I’m uh, nervous. I told you.”

 

“Sure, Coop. Nervous about the play. I get it.”

 

“Get what, Jug?”

 

“Nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He pulled the handle, ducking out of the car and into the rain, using his leather to protect what little he could of his body from the sheets of rain that pelted down on him. 

 

The roads were slick as he drove home, the rain let up a few minutes after Betty pulled away and he finally braved the streets to the trailer park. He was glad she hadn’t offered to drive him home too, afraid of who they might run into once inside the park and not ready to deal with the judgement he was sure they would be met with again so soon.

 

His thoughts hadn’t strayed far from him in weeks and for another night in a row, he fell into a deep sleep envisioning the exact shade of her emerald eyes behind his lids.

 

-

 

Opening night of the play was already hellacious and it was still twenty minutes until curtain time. The last two weeks had flown by with daily rehearsals and Betty was incredibly proud of how far Jughead had come in the short time. All of his lines were near impeccable and he had really fallen into the role. 

 

When it was finally time, he found her backstage in her dressing room.

 

“Five minutes to curtain, Coop. You ready?”

 

“As I’ll ever be,” she smiled.

 

“Good, let’s get you out there.” He offered her his hand and she readily took it, giggling as he pulled her into a fierce hug. If her bones had been the slightest bit brittle, she was sure he would have crushed her in that moment. She sunk into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his blue button up costume for the play. 

 

The first half went off without a hitch, Betty sang every line perfectly and hit all of her marks. Veronica slipped up once and forgot she had a line, but with a jab from Betty that was only slightly noticeable, she found her footing again.

 

During intermission, Jughead found her backstage again in her dressing room, as he leaned against the doorframe. He wore black dress pants and the same light blue button up from earlier, topped now with black suspenders that she found incredibly attractive.

 

“You need to leave, Jones,” she teased.

 

“And why is that Coop?” he asked.

 

“Well, I need to change for my final number and you already saw plenty at the river.”

 

“Plenty is relative.” He winked at her and she felt heat creep up her neck to her cheeks, surely staining them. “But I’ll let you keep your modesty - for now.”

 

As soon as the door shut she covered her face with her hands, groaning aloud before getting up to slip the light blue silk dress on. 

 

She wandered onto the stage, the opening notes of her song filling the auditorium as she snuck a glance at Jughead sitting in a chair on the opposite side. Her role was a singer auditioning for his bar and she took a deep breath in preparation for her solo. He winked at her and she felt her stomach flutter before she took her place and began.

 

_ There's a song that's inside  _ __  
_ Of my soul _ __  
_ It's the one that I've tried to write  _ __  
_ Over and over again _ __  
_ I'm awake in the infinite cold _ _  
_ __ But you sing to me over and over and over again

 

Betty belted out the lines, sweeping her eyes over the crowd, pleased with their enraptured looks. 

 

_ So I lay my head back down _ __  
_ And I lift my hands and pray _ __  
_ To be only yours I pray _ __  
_ To be only yours _ _  
_ __ I know now you're my only hope

 

She began to move, walking toward Jughead and leaning on the piano on his other side. He had the same look of wonderment as the audience and she took a deep breath, preparing for the next verse.

 

_ Sing to me the song of the stars _ __  
_ Of your galaxy dancing and laughing and laughing again _ __  
_ When it feels like my dreams are so far _ __  
_ Sing to me of the plans _ _  
_ __ That you have for me over again

 

Jughead couldn’t help but to stare at her, his gaze never leaving her form, bouncing between the sinful way the silk clung to her curves and the way her face shone with a happiness he had never seen before as she belted out the lyrics. 

 

_ So I lay my head back down _ __  
_ And I lift my hands and pray _ __  
_ To be only yours I pray  _ _  
_ __ To be only yours I know now you're my only hope

 

As she wound down from the chorus, he felt his breath catch in his throat, utterly enthralled by her mere presence.

 

_ I give you my destiny _ __  
_ I'm giving you all of me _ __  
_ I want your symphony _ __  
_ Singing in all that I am _ __  
_ At the top of my lungs _ _  
_ __ I'm giving it my all

 

It was as if he was under her spell, captivated by her angelic voice, her essence, and everything about her in that moment.

  
  


_ So I lay my head back down _

_ And I lift my hands and pray  _

_ To be only yours I pray _

_ To be only yours I pray _

_ To be only yours I know now you're my only hope _

  
  


The crowd was startlingly silent as she sang the last words. She ended up right beside him, just as she was supposed to be, but everyone else faded away for that moment. There was only her and her gown and her words echoing in his mind,  _ I pray to be yours. _ He reached over, running his fingers along her jaw before sinking the tips into her tresses, pressing a kiss against her lips that were even softer than he had ever imagined. Nothing else existed in that second, nothing but her lips and his, pushing and pulling in a way that felt far too familiar. A way that he couldn’t describe.

  
It was over all too soon as she pulled back and her eyes went wide, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. He trailed behind her as she ran from the stage, not paying attention to the hoops and hollers from the crowd. She slipped into her dressing room as he shot a hand around the door, keeping it ajar. 

 

“What do you want Jughead?” She let him in the door and shut it behind them.

 

“I want you to talk to me. We’re supposed to be friends,” he said tentatively.

 

“You don’t know the first thing about being someone’s friend.”

 

“Well, maybe I don’t want to be just your friend.” He sighed, simply unable to keep it in any longer. It had been weeks of dancing around each other and he was tired of the thinly veiled attempts to flirt with her falling on deaf ears. Every now and then he thought he saw a hint of returned affection, but it was always buried quickly, just like his words on the subject seemed to be.

  
  


“You don’t know what you want,” she muttered, still standing by the door, close enough that he could reach out and touch her despite her feeling a million miles away in that moment.

 

“Neither do you. Maybe you’re just too scared that someone might actually want to be with you,” he snapped.

 

She stared at him, eyes wide, mouth agape and a look of hurt clouding her features. “And why would that scare me?”

 

“Because then you wouldn’t be able to hide behind your books, or your grades, or your girl next door persona. No, no, you know the real reason why you’re scared? It’s cause you want to be with me too.”

 

“I think you should go.” Her tone was firm and her jaw was set, giving nothing away. If his words had affected her, it didn’t show.

 

“Yeah, great. I’ll go. But I’m right and you know it so you’re going to have to live with that,” he spat, slamming the door on his way out.

 

He could hear the cheers coming from the crowd, signaling that the play was over but instead of taking his place on the stage for the final bow, he burst through the back doors, his steps heavy as he walked with purpose over to the motorcycle. It roared to life between his legs and he sped off, grateful no one was in the parking lot to yell at him for the tracks he laid down on the cement with the spinning tires.

  
  


**-**

 

He wound up at Pop’s after checking in at the trailer. As soon as he saw his dad’s truck in the driveway he turned around and left, knowing that in his current state, an altercation with FP was likely to end in blows he wasn’t willing to throw that night.

 

Pop Tate was topping off his third cup of coffee when Betty wandered in, her face now bare of the makeup from the earlier play and the dress replaced with her typical jeans and pastel sweater. Her hair was still down in the same loose waves and when she caught his eye, he waved her over to the table.

 

Before she even sat down he spoke, “I’m sorry, Betty. I didn’t mean to upset you earlier.”

 

She laughed lightly and then sniffled. He hadn’t noticed at first, but as she sat down he saw her eyes rimmed with red, puffy from tears she had apparently shed earlier. He reached across the table and grasped her hand between his as she met his gaze.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked tentatively.

 

She sniffled again and shook her head as a single tear rolled down her cheek. He reached one of his hands up to brush it away before hooking it under her chin and bringing her eyes up to meet his.

 

“Talk to me.” His voice was quiet, a far cry from the venomous tone earlier that night. It looked like she needed someone and he wanted desperately for her to let him in, to let him help.

 

“I can’t,” she whispered, shaking her head again as her lip quivered.

 

“I care about you Betty,” he said softly.

 

“You can’t.” She dropped her gaze and pulled her hands back.

 

Betty knew they were wading into dangerous waters. Her most recent visits to the doctor had been anything but promising and he had crossed a line that night by kissing her. She couldn’t lie, at least not to herself, and say she hadn’t thought about that exact moment. But never in all of her daydreams had she imagined it being so public.

 

“I do like you,” she said quietly, smoothing her palms against her thighs to keep her nervous energy from leading back to her despicable habit. She had been good lately, keeping her fingers from pressing into her palms and forming the bloody crescents, but the stress of the last few weeks and the never ending appointments were all getting to be too much. Truthfully, she hadn’t done it in years and even thinking about pressing her nails into her palms until they bled brought back too many bad memories.

 

“Let me take you out.” His voice was soft as he slid his hands across the table, palms turned up in a silent invitation.

 

She lifted her hands and placed them in his, feeling the gentle pressure of his squeeze as she let out a deep sigh. “My mom would never allow it, Jug.”

 

“She doesn’t allow you to date?” he asked skeptically.

 

“No.”

 

“Well, then I guess I’ll have to try and change that,” he said, a smug smirk tugging at his lips. “We’re here anyway so let me buy you dinner. Are you hungry, Betts?”

 

She giggled softly, of course he wanted food, he always wanted to eat.

 

“I could probably handle an order of fries or a burger. Your choice.”

 

He ordered her both along with a strawberry milkshake and they sat in that booth for hours, laughing about the play and avoiding any mention of the kiss. Betty was glad he dropped it, unsure of what she would even say. She  _ had  _ liked it, more than she expected, and the impossibility of them being together weighed heavily on her thoughts.

 

As they got up to leave, he placed a hand on her lower back, guiding her out of the diner and into the parking lot. She shivered as the cool spring air cut through her thin cardigan and he shrugged off his jacket, placing it around her shoulders without a second’s hesitation.

 

“You look cute, Coop,” he teased, unconsciously swiping his tongue across his bottom lip at the sight that was both sexy and sweet all at the same time. Much like her, he thought fleetingly.

 

“Thanks.” A small smile teased the edges of her lips.

 

She shivered again and he looked around the parking lot. He didn’t see her car anywhere and she was shifting from one foot to another.

 

“C’mere.” He pulled her to him and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, trailing one hand up and down her own leather clad arm. “Let me warm you up,” he whispered.

 

“Thank you,” she said again quietly, her already soft voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. He felt the words more than he heard them as her lips moved against his chest, only a thin layer of cotton separating him from the very lips that he knew to be sinfully soft.

 

“Where’s your car?”

 

“I walked,” she said simply.

 

“Well it’s too late for you to walk home so let me drive you.”

 

Betty pulled back slightly, looking up at him and tilting her head. “You rode your bike.”

 

“Good thing I happen to know that’s on your bucket list,” he teased, winking at her before she buried her face in his chest again and giggled. “Seriously, Coop. I wouldn’t feel right letting you walk home. Let me take you,” he said softly.

 

She acquiesced with a slight nod against his chest before tightening her grip again. He wanted to kiss her, to feel the way her lips melded to his as if they were carved from the same stone, destined to be slotted together. But he thought better of it, the night’s earlier events still playing through his head as he tightened his hold on her and placed a soft kiss atop her head.

 

Betty stayed wrapped in his arms for a few more minutes, standing in the mostly empty parking lot. She wasn’t ready to go home, wasn’t ready to face her mother’s inquiry for the second time that night. 

 

She had wound up at Pop’s after a particularly bad fight about her ‘irresponsible decisions’ and the fact that resident bad boy Jughead Jones had kissed her in front of the whole town. Her mother droned on and on about appearances and ‘what will people think’ before Betty finally snapped. She yelled at her mother, venting all of her pent up feelings and anger at life in general, or her lack of a real chance at it. She was  _ so tired _ of the constant reminders of her mortality - statistics about transplants and her worsening condition. It weighed so heavily on her some days that she felt as if she couldn’t breathe, suffocated by the possibility that at any moment, she could wind up in the hospital, possibly never leaving it - just like her father. It was so unfair that it made her physically ill.

 

Eventually, she leaned back, pulling her arms from around his waist and gripping the sleeves of the leather jacket, hoping to regain some of the heat she lost as his body separated from hers.

 

He reached down to grab her hands, threading his fingers through hers and she hung her head, staring at the ground and trying to reign in the unbridled smile crashing over her cheeks at the simple gesture. 

 

He straddled the bike, gripping his helmet between his legs. “Hop on,” he said with a smile.

 

Betty was standing in front of the bike, crushing the leather between her fingers as the took in the sight of him on the piece of dangerous machinery. “Without a helmet?” she questioned.

 

“You can use mine. Or we can walk. Or we can take a bus or…” he paused, a wicked grin spreading across his cheeks. “Or we can call your mom.”

 

Betty shook her head vehemently. Calling Alice Cooper was definitely out of the question. “Oh, no,” she laughed, grabbing his helmet and pulling it over her hair, grateful it was still down from the play. It wasn’t flashy or embellished. Instead, a singular crown had been sloppily carved into the front and she found it to be endearing. Swinging one leg over the seat and sliding onto the bike she felt a fluttering deep in her stomach. 

 

“Hold on tight.” He twisted his neck to look at her, a smile still affixed to his face as she wound her arms around his torso and scooted even closer. 

 

“Like this?”

 

“Not quite,” Jughead chuckled, gripping her hands and pulling them tighter around him. 

 

She scooted forward until her front was pressed entirely against him, not an inch of space between their bodies to be found. The soft hairs on the nape of his neck looked inviting and Betty had to stop herself from reaching up to brush the errant strands down, taming them with her gentle touch. Instead, she opted to press her cheek against his back, hoping her smile would be hidden from his sight as she told him, “Just go slow, okay?”

 

She felt him twist around again, whispering words that made the butterflies in her stomach kick into overdrive, “Oh, no no no no, it’s actually  _ much _ more dangerous if we go slow.”

 

The motorcycle roared to life as he tore out of Pop’s parking lot. Her arms instinctively tightened, pulling him impossibly closer as she buried her face into the soft fabric of his shirt, relishing in the way the wind whipped her hair around. 

 

As they sped through the streets, Betty felt herself come alive. Every nerve ending in her body felt like it was on fire, the wind was licking every inch of uncovered skin with a delicious burn and it made her feel like she was invincible. Flying through the streets, wrapped in his leather and holding him tight, her own mortality didn’t weigh on her anymore. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she felt  _ almost  _ free.

 

All too soon the bike slowed to a crawl as they approached her house. Her arms were still securely wrapped around him and she squeezed gently as her face nuzzled into his back. She wasn’t quite ready to let go yet. “Thank you,” she murmured.

 

“Anytime,” he said softly, laying a hand over her arms and trailing it across the leather.

 

“I should go.” She knew she sounded reluctant but even her most well ingrained chipper tone just wouldn’t come out.

 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Your mom is probably waiting for you.”

 

Betty pulled her arms away before stepping off the bike. The engine lulled as he sat at the curb, still straddling the humming engine. “You were amazing tonight, Betts. I just needed to tell you that and I know earlier I may have-”

 

She cut him off, shaking her head, “Please don’t apologize, Jug.”

 

“I wasn’t going to,” he smirked.

 

Before either of them could say another word Alice Cooper threw open the front door, the loud bang of it hitting the side of the house drawing both of their attention to the sight. She descended the steps as Betty shrugged off the leather jacket and handed it back to him. 

 

“Thanks again, Juggie,” she said softly before turning to her mother.

 

“Elizabeth! Where have you been? I have been worried  _ sick _ about you and you’re riding around on a motorcycle with this hoodlum?” Alice screeched. “These things are dangerous. You could have been killed!”

 

“Oh but what a way to go, right mother?” Betty said bitterly.

 

Jughead watched the exchange with increasing confusion. It was always obvious that Betty was out of his league but to insinuate he would ever chance hurting her bothered him. Betty climbed the steps and disappeared behind the door before Alice turned to look at him.

 

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into here, Jug-Head, and I’d appreciate it if you stayed away from my daughter for the remainder of the school year. She doesn’t need someone like you skewing her priorities.”

 

“Let me stop you there Mrs. Cooper. Betty is incredible. She’s strong and intelligent and more beautiful than I ever realized. I won’t hurt her. I would never hurt her. I don't think I even have it in me to do something that would remotely hurt her. She’s almost an adult and she’s more capable of making her own decisions than most adults I’ve known. She’s amazing.”

 

“Well, Jug-Head, that was a nice speech you gave there but you’re right. It’s not my decision to make, it’s hers.”

 

“Actually Mrs. Cooper, I asked her out on a date and she said that it was  _ your  _ decision to make. So I'm asking you now, Can I please take your daughter on a date?. I care about her and I want to make her happy. Will you let me do that?”

 

Alice stared at him skeptically, her arms crossed and brow quirked up in question. There was a long pause before she finally acquiesced. “Jug-Head, you are not her type and she deserves a hell of a lot better than a snake like you. What you said about Betty making her own decisions is accurate though, and for reasons you will never understand, your words resonate with me. So if Betty wants to go, and that’s a big if, I won’t stop her,” she said simply. “But I have rules. She has a curfew and I require constant check ins. So be prepared for my wrath if you even step so much as one inch out of line. You hear me?”

 

Jughead nodded, a smile brimming on his cheeks as he agreed, “I understand.”

  
  
  


*


	5. You Are a Sight (for Sore Eyes)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @a92vm for being my hero this week. I don't know how many of you know, but I am in the middle of a HUGE move and without her beta skills, this would not have been released. 
> 
> This chapter has some adorable moments. I hope they make your heart flutter just like they made mine writing them.
> 
> <3 - K

*

 

 

Betty was in her room, wringing her hands together and preparing for the lashing her mother was sure to deliver after seeing her get off the motorcycle. It was stupid, really, allowing him to bring her all the way to her doorstep just hours after the fight with her mother, but she just couldn’t say no. 

 

Being around him was something she was still getting used to, cherishing the way her heart fluttered with every touch, every glance, and every single smile. She was still learning what each one meant individually. Over the years, she had rarely seen a smile grace his face, but in the last few months she had seen more of them than she could count. His smiles were always a bit different, some small, some wide, some teasing, some affectionate, and a few here and there that she couldn’t quite classify. Too many nights she had fallen asleep, picturing the way his lips curled on his cheeks and his eyes danced across her features as the mysterious smile settled on his lips. 

 

There was a knock at the door and Betty took a deep breath before opening it. Alice gestured toward the bed and they both sat down. 

 

“I’m sorry about earlier tonight.” Alice’s voice was weak, as if apologizing was physically strenuous. Betty guessed it just might be.

 

“It’s okay,” she said halfheartedly. “I love you mom and I know there’s a lot going on right now with my health. I know you’re stressed out and I’m sorry. I never-”

 

“No, Betty,” her mother said as she turned toward her. “Please don’t apologize. I should have trusted your judgement. You are nearly an adult and dealing with things that people far older than you don’t even have to think about. I know this ordeal has weighed you down for years and I just want to say that you were right. I should care less about appearances and more about my daughter. I want to focus on you. I am sorry.”

 

“Thank you,” Betty mumbled, still in disbelief over the sudden change of heart. 

 

“Have you told him yet?” her mother asked cautiously.

 

Betty tried to speak, but the sudden lump in her throat wouldn't allow it so she simply shook her head, unable to form even the single syllable word in response. No, she hadn’t told him. She wasn’t even sure how she would begin to tell him. One of the things she liked so much about spending time with him was the ability to feel normal, as if, even just for a few hours, she didn’t have to think about life outside of the bubble they always found themselves in.

 

“Oh Betty,” her mother cooed, cupping her hands together and squeezing gently. “He really likes you and I can tell you like him, too. It’s not fair to him to hide this.”

 

Betty felt a tear trickle down her cheek. She knew that, she had known that from the beginning. That’s exactly why she told him to not fall in love with her; even if it was a joke at the time, it had always been laced with truth.

 

“I know,” she muttered.

 

“Does he make you happy?” Her mother’s tone was softer than she had heard in years, egging on the tears that were now freely streaming down her cheeks.

 

She nodded, her voice surely ragged from the lump still lodged in her throat.

 

“He asked me if he could take you out.”

 

Betty laughed once, a hollow sound bouncing off the walls of her pastel wrapped room. “I thought he might,” she said quietly. “What did you say?” She tried to hide the hopeful lilt to her voice. Unfair or not, she wasn’t ready to stop seeing him, to squash the butterflies that erupted within her each time they were together.

 

“I wanted to say no at first, but he was rather insistent. He gave me a speech about you and how capable you are. He promised not to hurt you and something told me that he would be the one hurting because I had a feeling he didn’t know. Ultimately, his words might have swayed me a bit because I said it was your decision to make.” She paused, sucking in a deep breath before she broke. “I just want you to be happy Betty. For however long it lasts, however long you-” Alice choked back a sob, her own tears now on full display as they sat on the bed holding hands, just like they did so many years ago when Betty was a child, missing her father and mad at the world.

 

“Thank you mom,” Betty whispered, leaning over to wrap her mother in a hug. 

 

-

 

Monday morning Jughead arrived early to school and waited outside of the Blue and Gold office. He wanted to text Betty and tell her to meet him but he knew she would be there, just like she always was. He waited for a while, guessing she had been tied up or was running late for one reason or another. It wasn’t until he saw the Serpents walking down the hall toward him, in their typically nearly late fashion, that he realized she should have been there already. Checking the time on his watch, Jughead realized Betty should have been at school a while ago, yet she was nowhere to be found.

 

Sweet Pea sauntered up to him, clasping a hand on his shoulder in a friendly gesture before Jughead shrugged it off with a glare.

 

“Do you need something, Pea?” His voice was cold, his words short as the boys exchanged a less than friendly look.

 

“What’s with you? It’s like you don’t even have time for your  _ real _ friends anymore.”

 

“I don’t know man, I’m just tired of doing the same old shit everyday.”

 

Sweet Pea shook his head, tsking his tongue. “This girl is changing you and you don’t even know it.” 

 

“Ha. Did Toni say that too?” Jughead sneered.

 

“No, I did.” Sweet Pea was suddenly serious, a look he rarely sported and Jughead felt himself growing even angrier. 

 

“Well, maybe that’s not a bad thing.”

 

Jughead walked straight through the group, bumping shoulders as he gripped the strap of his bag and made his way down the hall, as far away from them as he could possibly go.

 

Betty was absent from school for the first few periods so he texted her a few times but received no reply. When the lunch bell rang, he walked into the hall and saw her, leaning against his locker, apparently waiting for him based on the smile that spread across her cheeks as he approached. 

 

“Betty Cooper,” he drawled, as the grin on her cheeks spread so wide it threatened to crack them right open. “You are a sight for sore eyes.”

 

She pursed her lips together, attempting to tame the unbridled smile. “It’s only been a few days, Jug.”

 

As soon as he was close enough, he pressed his palm flat against the locker above her head. He leaned his body into hers as she trapped her bottom lip between her teeth, looking up at him with the greenest eyes he had ever seen. “A few days is too long,” he muttered, nibbling on his own lip as he drank in the sight.

 

“You’re ridiculous,” she giggled, playfully slapping his chest.

 

He trapped her hand against him, cupping it with his own as the tension thickened. The halls were loud, but it was nothing compared to the sound of his heart thumping in his ear drums. He could feel every beat of his pulse as they stood in silence, hands pressed together and gazes locked.

 

“I might be,” he breathed, leaning forward. Her eyes fluttered close as he leaned in, readjusting course at the last second to press a kiss against her forehead. 

 

He wanted to kiss her, god did he want to kiss her. But not now, not in the crowded hallway, not with an audience, and certainly not without asking her on a proper date first. 

 

He pulled back slightly and looked down at her. Her eyes were still closed, her lip once again firmly lodged between her teeth and a smile curling around the edges of her lips.

 

“Let me take you out.” It wasn’t a question, more of a statement. He didn’t want to give her the opportunity to say no. For all he knew Alice had already quoted his entire speech to her and he felt vulnerable enough as it was.

 

“When?”

 

“Friday.”

 

“Okay,” she whispered. 

 

-

 

By Wednesday, Jughead was desperate. He had been researching “unique” date ideas and so far ‘going to a jazz club’ or ‘having a sing-a-long’ just didn’t seem to convey exactly what he was looking for. There was the typical dinner and movie but he felt as if the idea was too cheap for them - too cheap for her. Not in the monetary sense, but in the sentimental sense. He wanted it to be  _ special _ . He wanted to show her that  _ he _ could be special and none of those ideas seemed to hit that mark. 

 

At the end of the day, Betty was finishing up something in the Blue and Gold office as he waited outside patiently. A flash of dark hair was coming toward him faster than he realized and before he knew it, Veronica Lodge stood in front of him, her arms crossed and disapproval written all over her face.

 

“Serpent,” she greeted.

 

“Princess,” he returned.

 

“Betty has been telling  me things about you, you know. And I have to say I didn’t quite believe her before, but the way you’ve been following her around like a lost puppy dog and the longing glances I see you throw her way might make me reconsider. I could be possibly persuaded to give you my stamp of approval.”

 

“Oh, could you now?” he laughed.

 

“It’s possible,” she shrugged.

 

“What if I told you I was taking her on a date on Friday and I needed some help.”

 

Veronica’s eyes narrowed as she looked him up and down. “What do you need?”

 

“I want to do something memorable for her. It has to be unique and so far, the internet has given me nothing. So help me out here? In the name of your best friend’s happiness?”

 

Veronica uncrossed her arms and braced her hips, her lips pursed as she considered it. “I may have a few ideas.”

 

“Do you know about her bucket list?”

 

“Um,” Veronica suddenly seemed uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to the other as the silence stretched for a few minutes. “I do. What do you know about it?” she asked hesitantly.

 

It was Jughead’s turn to look at her skeptically, was there something more he should know? People had bucket lists, it wasn’t that odd but something about Veronica’s measured response rubbed him the wrong way. “It dropped out of her book one day. I saw ride a motorcycle. That’s about it.”

 

Veronica nodded, her features still rigid. “Well, add be in two places at once, get a tattoo, and go to the drive-in. You should be able to do something with one of those”

 

“Done and done.”

 

Before the conversation could go any further, the door to the newspaper office swung open and Betty visibly sighed as she shot them both an exaggerated eye roll. “Thank god that’s over. Pops?”

 

“I actually have to go but you two have fun.” Veronica hugged Betty before disappearing down the hall with a quick ‘goodbye’ to Jughead.

 

“So, Pop’s?” he asked her, slinging an arm over her shoulders and walking toward the parking lot. “Your car or mine?”

 

“I’d hardly call yours a car,” she jested. “I’ll drive.”

 

“This time.” He winked, causing a slight blush to rise on her cheeks. He had become addicted to this, to saying things that caused her to blush. He couldn’t help it. The way she looked was too cute to ignore and he found himself pressing her every chance he got, riding the thin line between teasing her and making her outright uncomfortable. It was a delicate dance that he was still perfecting, taking mental note of each time and it worked and building off of that.

 

-

 

Friday night at 6:45 PM, he waited patiently outside of the Cooper house, adjusting his fleece lined jacket before shoving his hands into his pockets. He had been fidgeting since he turned off the bike, telling himself there was no reason to be nervous despite the flips and flops his stomach was doing that said otherwise.

 

It was still fifteen minutes before he was supposed to arrive but he didn’t want to wait any longer as he ascended the stairs and knocked on the large wooden door. The sound echoed through the grand house, alerting whoever was inside of his presence.

 

When Alice Cooper opened the door and gave him the same skeptical look he had gotten from Veronica just a few days before, he knew he should have waited outside.

 

“I can wait out here,” he blurted out.

 

“Nonsense, Jug-Head, wait inside like the proper date I’m hoping you will be tonight.”

 

The silence wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as Alice’s glare . He fidgeted in the seat for a few minutes before he heard Betty’s shoes coming down  the stairs. 

 

“Have her back by curfew. No drinking. No drugs. No sex. You hear me?” Alice’s finger was pointed at Jughead as she rattled off the list.

 

“MOM! Stop.” Betty’s cheeks were burning red as she grabbed his hand and pulled them out of the house.

 

-

 

The motorcycle had definitely been the right choice, feeling Betty pressed against his back, her cheek flat against his shoulder and her arms wrapped around his waist was a comfort he wasn’t sure he could ever go without after knowing it. As the bike slowed down and came to a stop by the projection booth at the back of the drive-in, she finally unwound her arms, hopping off and looking around in awe.

 

“My mother never lets me come here,” she sounded excited. “I’ve always wanted to.”

 

“I know,” he said simply, unmounting the bike and walking over to her. He grabbed her hand as she quirked an eyebrow at him and tugged her up the stairs.

 

“Are we allowed to be here?” she giggled as the entered the cramped room.

 

He heard a small gasp escape her lips before he could answer, realizing he hadn’t cleaned up after the last time he was here. “Do you live here, Jug?”

 

“Sometimes.” He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I just know the owner and he helps me out from time to time.”

 

“Juggie,” she said softly.

 

“Don’t, Betty. Please. It’s fine. Tonight’s supposed to be fun.”

 

She nodded and he threaded their fingers together, tugging her to the front of the booth where he normally sat to watch the movie. 

 

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered against her temple, placing a soft kiss before getting up to start the reel. 

When he returned she was leaning back, sprawled out on the blanket with her eyes affixed to the screen. There was a pile of pillows behind her, propping her up just enough for him to slide his arm around her shoulders and pull her closer. Leaning into him, she laid her head on his shoulder as the movie played on the large screen. 

 

Neither one of them mentioned it when he started rubbing circles on her shoulder halfway through, Betty simply snuggled closer. When her palm wound up pressed against his chest, they didn’t say a word, remaining silent at his came up to cover it. They were nearly laying down by the time the credits rolled and he looked over at her only to find her looking back up at him. 

 

“Thank you.” He couldn’t decide which was softer, her voice or her smile; but both were heavenly as he got lost in the depth of her green eyes, wide open and staring at him in a way he had never seen before. 

 

The reel started flapping around as it finished playing, breaking the moment before he got up to fix it.

 

Jughead checked the clock on his phone before shoving it back in his pocket and pulling her up. “The night’s not over yet. Onto our next stop.”

 

“Next stop?” she asked curiously.

 

-

 

He pulled over into the drug store parking lot and told her to stay put. Betty had no idea what was going on, a giggle escaped her lips when he said ‘trust me’ before leaving her on the bike as he went inside. Only a few minutes had passed before he was back and they were once again speeding through the streets, the wind lapping at her skin as her blonde tresses danced in the moonlight. All the while a smile was glued to her face, one she wasn't sure would ever go away. Just like the last time they rode on the motorcycle, Betty felt free. She was drunk on the excitement of it all. She felt alive, really and truly alive.

 

They came to a sudden stop on the side of the road. As Betty looked around, she was confused. 

 

“What’s this, Juggie?” she asked curiously as he hopped off the bike and held his hand out to her, encouraging her to do the same. 

 

“C’mhere,” he muttered, tugging her to his chest and walking backward a few steps. His arms went around her waist as she stumbled, holding her securely to his sturdy frame for a few steps before they came to a stop.

 

“What is this, Juggie?” she asked again, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth and staring up into his eyes. They were a shade darker than what she was used to and she thought maybe it was just from the night sky’s reflection. That had to be why.

 

“I wanted to do something special for you,” he whispered with his voice so impossibly low that she knew that if they weren’t separated by mere centimeters she wouldn’t have heard him.

 

A smile crept up on her cheeks, hooking around the edges of her lips as she giggled. “Tonight has been very special,” she reassured him as her hands traveled from his chest upward and her arms wrapped around his neck. There was no such thing as too much of him and Betty threaded her fingers through his hair, forgetting their strange location and everything else in that moment as she tried to name the exact shade of blue staring back at her.

 

“Good,” he said quietly, uncurling his arms and pulling back. His fingers slipped through hers as he lightly tugged her over to the side. 

 

He instructed her to place one foot in a very specific spot and the other about a foot to the side. He gestured to the sign next to him with a wide smile on his face and Betty quirked an eyebrow at him before turning around.

 

“You're straddling the line between Greendale and Riverdale. Be in two places at once. Check,” he said with a smug smile.

 

Betty felt her own grin brimming on her cheeks, spreading so wide it made her face hurt as a laugh bubbled up from her chest, lost in the pure bliss of the moment. She threw her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in the crook of his neck as he lifted her up and spun her around, the moonlight painting their shadows along the grass as the moment stretched. 

 

When he finally put her down, he was still grinning like an idiot and she had an urge to reach up and place a soft kiss to the side of his lips. So she did, without thinking, and when she pulled back her eyes went wide. 

 

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

 

He brought his hand up to skim his fingers along her jaw, sinking the tips into the soft skin on the back of her neck and swiping the pad of his thumb over her cheek. “Don’t apologize.”

 

A car came careening down the deserted road, shaking them from the tender moment and they both laughed as it honked loudly while passing them.

 

“I have one more thing.” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes and she worried her lip to calm the giddy expression. Her cheeks were already sore and she wasn’t sure if she had ever smiled for so long; the ache was telling her she hadn't.

 

Grabbing her hand and pulling her back to the bike, he instructed her to sit on the seat before he pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket. He rifled around in the saddle bag and brought out a water bottle and some napkins. She looked at him curiously and he just grinned in response, cupping her wrist in one hand and sliding up the sleeve of her cardigan.

 

“Hold this,” he instructed, splashing some water on the napkin and handing her the uncapped bottle. A small white sheet covered in cellophane emerged from the bag and he pressed the corner against her wrist, dabbing it with the napkin as she watched him in adoration.

 

“Get a tattoo. Check,” he whispered, looking up to meet her gaze. He looked back down at the paper, slowly peeling it back to reveal a small, basquiat crown. He blew on it softly, sending shivers up her spine. It was a singular black outline with three points and she giggled again as he put the supplies away. She was twisting her wrist side to side, admiring the simple ‘tattoo’ when he gently pulled her up again. His fingers ran along her jaw once more and she leaned into his touch as he cupped her face.

 

“Juggie-” she started, unsure of what else to say. 

 

His features softened, as his eyes searched hers, looking for something she was sure he would find. It meant more than he knew the way their night had gone. He didn’t even understand the importance of the list and yet he had put more effort into helping her complete it than anyone else ever had. 

 

“I might kiss you.” His voice was quiet, nearly drowned out by the chorus of cicadas in the forest just beyond the treeline.

 

“I might be bad at it,” she mumbled. Her breath hitched in her throat as he drew her closer, the gentle pressure of his fingers guiding her mouth to his.

 

As their lips met in the middle, she sunk into the kiss. It was only the second kiss in her entire lifetime, and his lips were the only ones she had felt, but at that moment, she knew something in her would never be the same. The gentle pressure of his impossibly soft lips was a feeling Betty wasn’t sure she would ever get used to. She pressed herself to him, winding her arms around his neck before pulling back. 

 

He leaned his forehead on hers, breathing deeply, apparently as lost in her as she was in him and she leaned up again, connecting their lips once more because she simply couldn’t help it. 

 

This wasn’t in front of a crowd, it wasn’t for anyone else, it was just for her, just for him, and just for them on the quiet road between Greendale and Riverdale. It was too much and yet not enough all at the same time, as her thoughts ceased and she relished in the feel of their private moment.

 

-

 

It was 10:58 PM when the bike parked in front of her house and she hopped off. He did the same and immediately laced their fingers together, tugging her back into a fierce hug.

 

“Thank you for today,” she mumbled into his neck.

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

“Jughead,” she began, pulling back to look him in the eyes. She  _ needed _ to tell him, but she wasn’t sure how. She wasn’t ready for him to treat her the same way everyone else did. She wasn’t ready for him to treat her as if she was fragile, ready to fall apart any minute. He was the only who had taken the time to really see her, no diagnosis involved, no thoughts of mortality discussed. Even Veronica slipped down that slope sometimes and it was simply all too much. What if he didn’t even want to see her again after he found out? What if the impossibility of them being more physical because of her illness was a deal breaker for him? He was in high school and the typical high school boy was after one thing above all else, that wouldn’t be possible for them without a serious conversation and a series of tests, even if she was even willing to go that far - or if he was even willing to go there at all. Her thoughts ceased as he waited with bated breath.

 

“What?” he asked softly, tucking a strand of blonde hair, errant from the ride, behind her ear.

 

They were suddenly bathed in light from the porch and Betty cleared her throat. “Nothing.”

 

“Hey, what is it?” He sounded concerned and her heart wrenched uncomfortably in her chest.

 

“Nothing,” she said again, with more conviction.

 

“Okay, Coop. Whatever you say,” he resigned as his eyes flicked over the features of her face and his fingers nimbly traced the line of her neck down to her collarbone. “Do you have plans tomorrow?”

 

“Not yet,” she smiled, trapping her lip between her teeth.

 

“Now you do. I’ll pick you up at 10. Be ready.” It was a statement, not a question - again - but she would have said yes anyway.

 

She nodded as they both heard Alice call from the porch, “Time to go Jug-Head.”

 

They shared one last smile as they unwound their limbs from each other. Jughead brought her hand up to his lips and placed a soft kiss along her knuckles. “Good night Betts.”

 

“Good night, Juggie. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

As she sat in her bedroom after an inquiry from her mother, she thought back to the events of the night. He didn’t even know how much it all meant, but he needed to. She resolved to tell him the next day. 

 

She had told him not to fall in love with her, but somehow her own heart said otherwise. Maybe she should have told herself.

 

Laying in bed she felt positively exhausted, possibly weighted down by the sheer guilt of the situation or maybe tired from the exciting events of the day. She wasn’t sure which one it was but exhaustion overtook her in a matter of minutes, as she drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep.

 

*


	6. (I Think) I’m Falling for You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to @a92vm for all of your help and your invaluable input as my amazing beta and inspiration for this chapter. I know it took longer than most but I am hopeful I can stick to this weekly posting schedule from here on out. Some unforeseen events caused this one to be late but we seem to be back on track. I hope you enjoy!

*

 

 

Showing up early was practically a foreign concept for Jughead, but when 9:45 am rolled around and he found himself rasping on the Cooper’s door, he figured early wasn’t such a bad thing after all. He couldn’t wait to see Betty again, their kiss had cemented the way he had been feeling. It was better than any he had before. The way her pout fit perfectly between his, the pressure, a perfect mixture of soft and sultry. He knew he had to have more, addicted didn’t even begin to cover how he was feeling. It was as if he was craving her touch, craving that soft smile that seemed to be just for him. He craved her presence. 

 

The night before, as he had been falling asleep, a stupid smile spreading from cheek to cheek, he couldn’t tear his thoughts away from her. Betty wasn’t like anyone he had ever known in practically every possible way. Her kind heart was only the tip of the iceberg that he considered her best qualities to be. She had untold depths, depths that held more than pastel sweaters and smooth ponytails. The very essence of Betty Cooper was fueled by a passion he couldn’t help but admire. She was strong willed and witty, sweet yet sultry, soft yet sharp. All of it combined, wrapped in a package as breathtaking as Betty was, made his head spin and he found himself constantly yearning to know more.

 

His knock went unanswered and he found himself fidgeting, shifting from foot to foot as he waited and waited. Reaching over, he rung the bell, figuring maybe no one had heard him. There were no tell tale sounds of footsteps descending the grand staircase, it was silent inside the house, save for the soft echo of the doorbell through every nook and cranny. He rang it again, and again, and eventually heard someone inside. 

 

When Alice pulled open the door, the sullen look on her face caught Jughead off guard.

 

“Good morning Mrs. Cooper. Is Betty ready?”

 

“I’m sorry, Jughead. Betty won’t be going anywhere today. I’ll tell her you stopped by.” 

 

Before the door shut, he reached forward and slipped his fingers around the edge, keeping it ajar. “Hold on. Is Betty okay?” The worry in his voice was evident but he didn’t care, her mother had to know he cared about her. From their talk before the date to the glow he was sure she had when she returned home the night before, it was glaringly obvious. There was no pretense of nonchalance anymore, not for Betty, not to anyone. 

 

Alice looked at him and he could have sworn the lines around her eyes creased just a hairsbreadth deeper, causing the pit of his stomach to clench. “She’s just not feeling well.” 

 

He didn’t know what to say as his preplanned day slipped away, right before his eyes. They were supposed to go down to the river again, where he first saw her list. He wanted to know more, wanted to know everything: what the list was, why it mattered so much, what else she wanted to check off. He wanted to help her, to be the person in all of her memories. Maybe if that happened, maybe she’d let him be her everything too, like she was quickly becoming for him. 

 

“I-,” he stammered, unsure of what to say to gain entrance to the house. He wanted to see her so badly that he could feel it in his bones, as if they were calling for her. It hadn’t been long since their dynamic had changed but that didn’t matter, he knew before they even kissed. She was  _ it _ for him, the one person he needed more than he ever knew. There hadn’t been  much goodness in his life before her, and he wasn’t sure if there would be any after. Something about Mrs. Cooper’s words, and the sickeningly sad tone they carried, worried him deeply. It wasn’t just that Betty was sick, it was more than that. How much more, he had no idea, but a cold wouldn’t warrant the worrying bags, the pallid skin, and the look of utter helplessness gracing the typically stern features of Mrs. Cooper’s face. What had changed in a singular night? What had he missed?

 

“I will tell her you stopped by,” Mrs. Cooper repeated, the edges of her lips tipping up in the smallest of smiles, a feigned consolation.

 

“Thank you,” he mumbled. 

 

As his boots hit the steps of the porch, descending the wooden slats with heavy thuds, his mind went into overdrive. Something was wrong and he needed to know what it was. He had a plan, he’d be back later so maybe she’d let him in. He pulled out his phone and sent her a quick message ‘feel better’ no emoji, no heart, no wink - just a thought, singular and simple.

 

-

 

Alice cracked the door open, the hinges squeaking with each centimeter she slowly pulled it back. “Hey.” Her tone was soft, attempting to sound upbeat and Betty balked at the way her mother felt the need to handle her. As if she needed the white glove treatment, too delicate for harsh reality. 

 

“What did you say to him?” She wasn’t interested in rehashing their earlier conversation. When Alice came into Betty’s bedroom that morning, tears leaked from her eyes and Betty felt confused, hazy, trying to process what was happening. It was as if she was trapped in a bad dream. Her mother had reached out, cupping Betty’s hand and looked at her with a heaviness she hadn’t seen in months. It wasn’t until she tried to sit up, to clear the cotton jamming her head preventing the rational thoughts from pushing their way through that she realized what was going on. As her vision cleared, with a still muddled mind, she looked down at her fingers. They were tinged with the faintest hint of yellow, the offending hue covering all the skin she could see as her eyes drug up her arm and around her chest. She felt weak, too weak to sit up, let alone stand, and - she suddenly remembered her date with Jughead that day - far too weak to leave the house, maybe even too weak to leave her bed.

 

Alice and Betty had gone around and around. Alice forbid Betty from leaving the house and Betty agreed, but when she suggested inviting Jughead over, Alice had lost it. She had positively refused, stating her need for rest and relaxation. 

 

“It’s not a good idea. Not when he doesn’t know,” she had said. They reached an impasse and before Betty could fight it any further, they heard a knock at the door. Neither dared to move an inch, tears streaming silently down both of their cheeks. Something in that moment felt far too much like the beginning of an end and she couldn’t handle it, couldn’t process. 

 

It wasn’t time. 

 

It was too early. 

 

She had been fine the night before, albeit a bit more tired than usual.  _ It just wasn’t fair. _ And with a cloudy mind, thoughts too jumbled to untangle, they both continued to sit still through more knocks and then the doorbell. When he rang it a second time, Alice got up, presumably answered and now that she was back, Betty just needed to know what she said. 

 

She couldn’t have told Jughead, it wasn’t her place. She wouldn’t have. 

 

At least, Betty hoped she wouldn’t. 

 

“What did you say to him, mom?” With bated breath she waited for her mother’s answer. Her voice cracked, her throat raw, a sob rising in her chest, swelling with the prospect of how many things she might have said. All the words died on her lips, waiting and waiting for her mother to respond.

 

“I just told him you weren’t feeling well, honey.” The words were strained, clawing their way out of her mouth in the smallest voice she had ever heard from the great Alice Cooper as her mother’s hand cupped her cheek. 

 

She felt so tired, so utterly exhausted, as if she could sleep for days, but that couldn’t happen. Not now, not for a while, not when she still had so many unanswered questions. 

 

“Get some rest.” It wasn’t really a suggestion, more of plea, one made with sad eyes and tear stained cheeks from the only real family she had left. As she blinked, her eyelids felt heavy, the sheer weight of her head on her neck felt cumbersome and she nodded lazily, unable to think much more. Maybe a few more hours wouldn’t hurt. She was just  _ so  _ tired.

 

-

 

Two hours later she heard the bell again, rousing her from her slumber. As she blinked the sleep from her eyes, bringing her hand up to rub them, she felt resistance. Her mother was still sitting on the bed, in the same spot she had been before. Other than the now dried salty trails running down her face, she still looked exactly the same, as if she hadn’t moved a muscle.

 

The bell sounded again, the high pitched ding and subsequent dong bouncing around the crevices of the hallway, all the way up the stairs and into her room, even through the cracked door. “Aren’t you going to get that,” she asked sleepily, stretching father than she could earlier and feeling just the smallest bit more nimble, nowhere near rested, but slightly more awake, her thoughts muddled marginally less.

 

“It’s him.” Her mother didn’t smile, but Betty felt one tugging at her own lips. 

 

“Are you sure?” The hope in her voice must have dislodged something in her mother, the corner of her lip twisting up just a fraction of an inch.

 

“I’m sure. The bike rumbled through the streets before shutting off out front. I think he brought something for you.”

 

Betty’s earlier grin widened, cracking across her cheeks so quickly she couldn’t even stop herself. “Really?”

 

“We can’t let him in, Betty. Not today. Not when he still doesn’t know.”

 

“So I’ll tell him. Please, mom. I need to see him. I feel better.”

 

“I know you do sweetie.” The features of her mother’s face softened as she lightly swiped a thumb over Betty’s cheek. “If you really want to see him, I won’t stop you, but please, stay in bed. The conversation is going to be tough, but it needs to be had.”

 

“Thank you,” Betty whispered.

 

Alice nodded and got up from the bed, leaning back in the door, half in the hall to call a slight warning, “Your door stays open. The whole time. Understood?”

 

Betty laughed and said, “yes,” snuggling further down into her sheets, thankful her pajamas weren’t embarrassing. She wore a simple pink tank top and fuzzy pink pants with little hearts on them. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to be seen in, but the comfort the soft material afforded was more important than stylishness at that moment anyway.

 

-

 

The door was open as Alice gestured toward Betty’s room. It had been awkward and surprising greeting her at the door and then being granted entrance to the residence that was all but forbidden mere hours before. To say he was confused would have been an understatement. Mrs. Cooper had seen the large bouquet of roses in his hand and the Panera bag hanging from him arm before she smiled and let him in without a word. 

 

He stepped into Betty’s room, surprised to see her still in her pajamas. She looked a little more fragile than he remembered, as if her skin was delicate, nearly translucent, save for the fleshy tint that seemed just a shade off. The curtains were drawn and maybe the fluorescent light bathing the room could have been the cause for the strange hue. It was noon and she was sick, that much was evident.

 

She was smiling before he even saw her and he assumed it was inspired by the flowers that entered the room ahead of him. 

 

“Hi,” she said sweetly, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth to tame the smile that was growing impossibly wide by the second as she took him in. 

 

He had been dressed for a ride on the bike and there was something strangely poetic about his harsh clothes in her soft room. The rugged leather and hard metal accents, his heavy boots and tattered jeans, it all looked so out of place amongst the pinks and whites, the fluffy comforter and childhood pictures. It was as if he was danger, and she was innocence, he was dark, she was light, and somehow, he had a fleeting thought of the middle, the melding, the meshing of their two worlds into one he never knew he needed.

 

“Hey,” he returned, inching closer to her, extending his hand, the one wrapped around the bouquet. He wanted her to take them, to free his hands so he could thumb her lip, stop the abuse on the same patch of sensitive flesh that had been occupying unhealthy amounts of room in his mind for hours - days if he was being honest.

 

“Thank you.” Her smile was still wide, but appeared to be wilting. A wistful look graced her features as she studied the petals, thumbing them loosely before dragging her eyes back up this. Something was wrong. Her eyes told him that. They said something was amiss, they said she was uneasy, they said something she hadn’t, and he felt the pit of his stomach twitch for the second time that day. It’s said that instinct is a byproduct of past experiences, but he was drawing a blank, utterly lost as to what it could possibly be. 

 

“What’s going on Betty?” He didn’t want to ask. He wasn’t sure what she would say, but he need to know what was wrong. It was as though a strange sense of dread befell the room before he ever even stepped foot in it. As if the house itself was steeped in it that morning when he walked up the steps, completely unaware. Few things in his life had ever given him that strong sinking feeling in his stomach, and this was one of those things.

 

“Can you please sit?” she asked sweetly, scooting back on her bed until she was pressed against the headboard, leaned up on some pillows and sitting straight up. Her loose waves were tousled, still mussed from her slumber and he reached up and tucked a strand behind her ear as he sat down. She placed the roses on her bedside table and leaned into his palm as he cupped her cheek. 

 

His hand lingered there, fingers stretched back to the nape of her neck, tips rubbing gently as his thumb brushed her cheek. “Talk to me,” he whispered, the words floating between them as his features softened and she took a deep breath.

 

“I don’t know what to say, Jug.” 

 

If she was at a loss for words, he sure wasn’t. “Then let me talk. I know you’re sick but that’s not it. Something is wrong,” he shifted, facing her fully, “but I also see you don't want to tell me. Whatever it is, I’m here. I’ll always be here. You don’t have to worry about that.”

 

She nodded, a singular tear slipping down her cheek from the motion, finally spilling over the reddened rims. A tear she didn’t even know she had left in her. 

 

“Can you do something for me?” she asked with a small voice, nearly a whisper as her lips moved and only soft sounds escaped.

 

“Anything,” he answered without hesitation.

 

“Can you give me a few hours? Can we just watch a movie or a show or Netflix? Just lay here for a while? I’m just not feeling well and I…” she paused, contemplating how to tell him she wasn’t ready for him to see her like everyone else, like a fragile toy past its prime, prone to shatter with the slightest touch. “I promise I’ll tell you. I just can’t yet.”

 

“Of course.” He reassured with another brush of his thumb as he leaned in. She didn’t care if her mother walked in, she wanted to kiss him again, to never stop kissing him, as if the motion was a balm for her soul, a relief that just kept giving.

 

She scooted farther onto the bed, shuffling beneath the sheets to make room for him. He sat atop the comforter, the thick blanket separating them, keeping a distance she didn’t particularly want at that moment. As he pulled off his shoes, she tugged the blanket down. It probably wasn’t a good idea to have him under the sheets with her, but if the blanket was gone, there was less separating them, nothing but air and a few measly inches. 

 

The bed squeaked as he made his way over to her, eyeing the discarded comforter before looking back up at her. She saw him pause for a moment, nearly up against the headboard, frozen in his spot. As his eyes drug over her features, she felt like squirming. It felt as if he was inspecting her, looking for an issue. Could he see the yellowing tint? Could he see the swelling in her ankles? It was mild, much less than other times but still enough for her to notice; maybe he would, too. 

 

Finally he settled into place, sparse room between them as he shifted a bit closer. She leaned into him and he looked down at her head, settled on his shoulder as she flipped the TV on and selected Netflix.

 

“I brought you soup.”

 

She stopped the scrolling and looked at him, leaning up to kiss him as her hand cupped his jaw. Short, sweet, simple. “Thank you,” she breathed. “I’m not hungry right now but maybe later.”

 

Really she just didn’t want to move, didn’t want to disturb the peace that was settling over her as they laid on her bed. He felt like her safe space, like tranquility. Despite her earlier exhaustion, the bare skin his fingers found on her shoulder felt like it was on fire. The smallest touch burning through the layers, simmering from the contact.

 

She handed him the remote, deciding that she didn’t truly care what they watched. It could be anything, all that mattered was that he was there. That this was normal. As normal as she knew how to keep it at that moment. 

 

The swelling had gone down and she was feeling a bit better, each spell of illness was different, some lasting hours, others for days, and the occasional few landing her in the hospital for weeks. It had been a long time since she was hospitalized for any length of time, her current cocktail of medications apparently doing the trick at keeping her as healthy as possible - not perfect, by any means, but stable. That was the goal, stability in her condition until something drastically changed.

 

-

 

Betty blinked her eyes open, refocusing on her surroundings. Credits were rolling across the screen and she quickly realized that she must have fallen asleep somewhere between the selection and the title. Jughead’s chest was warm against her cheek as she realized she was curled into him, tucked under his arm with one leg thrown over his. It was all perfectly innocent. They were still fully clothed, but with his arms wrapped around her shoulder, her leg tangled with his, and her body fully pressed against him as his chest rose and fell with each breath beneath her cheek, it felt far more intimate than anything they had ever done before.

 

“Hey,” she croaked, her voice thick with sleep.

 

“Morning, sunshine,” he whispered, gently pressing his lips to her hairline.

 

“Sorry I fell asleep.” She craned her neck up to look at him only to find his lips tilting up in a lopsided smile.

 

“Don’t be sorry.” 

 

She wasn’t sure what he meant. Don’t be sorry for sleeping or don’t be sorry for using him as a human pillow, either were in her favor so she figured it didn’t matter. He was there, in her room, and she was hard pressed to pass up the opportunity to kiss him again, her lips still tingling from the memory of his kiss.

 

She shifted upward, leaning in to press her lips against his as she felt his fingers slide along her jaw, the tips settling just behind her ear as his thumb wedged under her chin. Both of her hands came up to his neck, gripping the crooks for leverage as she tilted her head, experimenting with him. It was all still so new to her, kissing someone, but he made it easy. With every flick of his tongue and nip of his teeth, her body responded without a second thought. It was natural, right, real, and she let her thoughts cease as her lips took over, moving in sync with his, in a way it felt more than practiced, more than trained. It felt as though it had been ingrained on her very soul before they ever met. 

 

Time didn’t matter unless kisses were counted in seconds, twists of their tongues counted in minutes, and the quick breaths stolen between counted in hours. She had no idea how long they had been kissing, lost in the feeling of safety he always provided when a sharp knock sounded against her doorframe. She shot back, sucking her lips in as her back hit the headboard just in time for Alice to walk through the door. 

 

“I have to go for a little bit to cover a story in Greendale. I left money for pizza on the counter and I know Jughead brought you soup earlier. I won’t be gone long but I think Jughead should leave.”

 

“Why? He’s only been here a few hours and I slept through the movie.”

 

“Ahem. Two movies,” Jughead corrected. 

 

Betty was confused. Had she really been asleep for that long?

 

“I know, sweetie. I checked in plenty of times. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for him to stay  _ today _ ,” she said with a quirked brow.

 

Bety knew what she was getting at. “Actually mom, I think I  _ should  _ have someone here with me today. Don’t you think?”

 

“I don’t mind going, Betty-”

 

“No, Jug. I think my mom agrees with me. Right mom?” Betty asked with a tilt of her head. 

 

That seemed to do the trick as Alice put her hands up in defeat. “You’re right, Betty. I don’t think it’s a bad idea either. But Jughead,” she said, twisting her gaze and staring at him with stern features, “I have rules in the house, too. Clothes on at all times. Stay out of the bedroom while I’m gone and clean up if you make a mess.”

 

“Will do, Mrs. Cooper.”

 

“Thanks, mom.” Betty rose from the bed for the first time that day, pausing to stretch her limbs before making her way over to her mom and wrapping her in a hug, whispering ‘thank you’ once more before turning to Jughead. She waved her hand for him to follow her and they settled in the living room, an Alice Cooper approved spot for their time alone.

 

-

 

As soon as the car pulled out of the driveway, Jughead hopped up from the couch, pulling Betty up with him as she giggled. 

 

“C’mhere.”

 

She followed him without questions, not even a sideways glance as he grabbed the blanket off the back of her couch at the last minute and went out the back door. She didn’t even say anything when he fanned it out, pulling at it and smoothing the corners against the lawn. 

 

The soft light of the moon bathed her locks in silver rays, making them sparkle, twinkling as she moved, just like the stars above. She was positively radiant, luminous from the inside out, even when she was sick. While she did seem a bit better, the house felt stuffy and he was hoping some fresh air might do her some good. The prospect of what she alluded to telling him earlier was weighing on him heavily, blanketing his thoughts, even as she slept on his shoulder. It took everything in him not to question her, to not ask what was wrong and how he could possibly fix it. It felt important, and whatever it was, it was still looming over them. 

 

“What are we doing, Jug?” she finally asked through a bemused smile as he nodded his approval of the display in front of them. 

 

“We’re watching the stars.” 

 

He sprawled out on the blanket, one arm tucked behind his head, the other laid out for her to rest on. It was a silent invitation and she took it without hesitation. With each breath he took, his mounting curiosity threatened to bubble over. Her cheek was laid on his chest again, her leg thrown over his, it was the same position from the bed earlier, one that was both impossibly close and yet somehow not close enough all at the same time so he tightened his grip, pulling her further into his embrace.

 

“I think I’m falling for you,” he nearly whispered. It was a revelation slipping through his lips, unfiltered and unrealized until the words hung thick in the air.

 

She stiffened, sucking in a sharp breath before sitting up on her elbow and facing him fully. Her eyes were rimmed with wetness, shiny pools threatening to spill over with the smallest blink. “Jug-” Her voice broke as a singular tear trailed down her cheek, her lips quivering and a desperation laced through the singular syllable. 

 

He sat up quickly, pulling her onto his lap and cradling her neck with one hand, pressing her face into the crook of his neck and holding her body close with the other arm. “I told you not to fall in love with me,” she breathed. The words trailed across the skin on his neck, snaking their way up to his ear and seeping into his mind before he even realized what she meant. It was a stupid line, said at a stupid time, about the stupid play. It made no sense and he pulled back, tilting his head down to look into her eyes, the same ones that were glazed with tears unshed. 

 

“Why?” His voice was desperate, hurt, unsure. The looming sense of dread from earlier was pooling in his stomach, mounting heavier and heavier with each passing second of silence. 

 

“Juggie-” she paused, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. She swiped her thumb once and wanted nothing more than to kiss him. To rewind and get back to that place where he didn’t know, where it wasn’t going to happen, where she could pretend everything was okay, even if it was just with him. At least they had earlier, those moments in the bed, shared between no one other than the two of them and her teddy bears. Secrets that she would always keep. At least she had that. “I’m sick.”

 

And in that instant, with his eyes locked on hers, the crickets chirping in the background as the silence stretched between them, she felt everything change.

  
  


*


	7. I'm Dying (to Breathe in These Abundant Skies)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS! @a92vm is a ROCKSTAR. I am so, so, so sorry that this has taken so long. It's safe to say that a two week update schedule will probably be adhered to but we'll see if I can get some chapters out before then. 
> 
> THANK YOU ALEX FOR MAKING THIS READABLE!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy and it has been worth the wait.

_ “Juggie- I’m sick.” _

 

_ I’m sick. _

 

_ I’m sick. _

 

_ I’m sick.  _

 

The words were on loop in his head, two simple words repeating over and over and over again, telling him something he thought he already knew. But the look in her eye told him there was so much more. “Well, we’ll take you to the doctor.”

 

“No, Jug. I’m sick. I have Hepatitis B, my liver is failing.” 

 

Revelation after revelation shot through him like bullets piercing a target. She was sicker than a cold, a lot more tragic than what he had imagined. He couldn’t even begin to process the gravity of it all, but the look in her eyes broke his heart. Tears were welling around the rims and he reached forward, his hand mirroring hers, and cupped her cheek. “No. You can’t be. You’re… you’re seventeen. You’re perfect, Betty.”

 

“I’ve had it for years.” Her eyes dropped to the blanket and he genty directed her gaze back up to his before she continued. She told him all about her father, his brief but final stay in the hospital and the years she had spent in and out of hospitals because of her own illness. She told him about her mother, how she had never been vaccinated as a child and told him about the guilt that Alice carried with her because of it. She talked for what felt like hours, words spilling from her lips as tears kept streaming down her cheeks. All he did was listen, soaking it all in. The deafening sound of his own pulse almost too much to bear, his heart was thumping rapidly, threatening to beat right out of his chest. There was just no way. Seventeen years old, on the cusp of the rest of their lives. He was falling in love with her. She couldn’t be sick.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He knew it probably wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but he had to know. Was this all some kind of sick joke the universe was playing on him? 

 

“The doctors said I should live life normally, as best as I could.” Her voice was nearly a whisper, wistful and full of sorrow all the same. “I didn’t want anybody to be weird around me.”

 

“Including me?” He felt a warm tear trail down his cheek and he willed himself to keep it together because she was already falling apart, right before his very eyes. He needed to be strong enough for both of them.

 

“Especially you! I was fine. I had accepted it, and then  _ you  _ happened. You’re the only one who doesn’t treat me like I’m fragile. You don’t look at me like I’m broken.” Another tear fell down her face as she sniffled before whispering, “I don’t need another reason to be angry with fate.” 

 

He stayed silent for a while, tracing her features with his gaze. He could see it now, the translucency of her skin, the pale yellow tint, the sullen bags. She did look sick, maybe even sicker than before, but she was still the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. “It doesn’t change anything. Not for me, at least. Betty, I can’t imagine what you’re going through but please, please let me do it with you. Let me be here, by your side. Please don’t push me away.”

 

“I won’t,” she whispered as the lines around her eyes softened and she leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lips. When they separated, their lips lingered there, breaths intermingling, their foreheads pressed together, hands on each other’s cheeks, locked in an intimate embrace. She twisted her head, laying it down on his shoulder and leaning her body into his. With another small shift, they were laying down on the blanket again, just like earlier in her bed. 

 

“Tell me something, please.”

 

“Anything, Jug.”

 

“Your list, are those all the things you want to do before you-” He stopped himself, the final word dying on his lips, left unsaid. He could hardly think about it, much less say it, but the thought hung between them, obvious on both ends.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Can I see it?”

 

She angled her neck, looking at him again as the corner of her lip curled up just slightly. 

 

“Sure.”

 

-

 

Monday morning rolled around and Betty hadn’t felt any better. She had a doctor’s appointment to check on her condition and was already scheduled to be out of school, so when her alarm went off at 5:45 am, she silenced it and rolled back over, sending off a ‘good morning’ text to Jughead before falling back into a deep sleep.

 

The day was a blur of white walls and monotone voices. There was talk of admitting her, keeping her under their care while they tried to figure out why her liver was no longer responding to treatments. 

 

The disease was too advanced, her body too far gone with it to get better. Alice and Betty both protested the stay in the hospital so a compromise was reached. She would do her schoolwork from home, laying in bed with minimal activity as they ran more tests. She had another appointment in a few days and they were going to see where she was on the transplant list, marking her condition more serious than previous noted. There was a strong possibility they would insist on admittance then, and she felt the dread sink deep into her stomach, rendering her speechless as she nodded through the rest of the appointment.

 

-

 

The winding road back to Riverdale seemed to never end. She felt numb, simply listening and seeing, but not feeling a thing. She heard a song come on the radio and leaned over, twisting the knob to let the words drown out her own thoughts.

 

_ Hello, good morning, how you do? _ __  
_ What makes your rising sun so new? _ __  
_ I could use a fresh beginning too _ __  
  


She found herself humming along to the music. 

 

_ All of my regrets are nothing new _ __  
_ So this is the way that I say I need you _ __  
_ This is the way that I'm _ __  
  


The words slid through her parted lips, the lyrics ingrained in her memory.

 

_ Learning to breathe _ __  
_ I'm learning to crawl _ __  
_ I'm finding that you and you alone can break my fall _ __  
_ I'm living again, awake and alive _ _  
_ __ I'm dying to breathe in these abundant skies

 

She felt it. Right then. The words caught in her throat, tears stinging her eyes, she was going to die. Dying to breathe in these abundant skies, she was going to die. 

 

-

 

When the doorbell echoed around the house, it sounded haunting, almost ominous, as if it were the start to the saddest score of her entire life to date. She was dreading the talk. Jughead knew she was sick, she had been honest about that. But after the appointment earlier, she needed to be completely transparent. It wasn’t fair to him anymore, not that it ever had been. She had meant it at the time, he shouldn’t have fallen in love with her. But she couldn’t even muster an ounce of regret. He was by far the best gift the universe had given her in all of the years stained with sadness. 

 

As she heard the heavy steps ascending the stairs, her throat began to tighten, tears welled around the rims of her eyes and she couldn’t stop them from falling by the time he rounded the doorway, concern etched on his features as he hurried to her side.

 

Knowing that they may never have another first, and each experience may be their last weighed heavily on her as she began to sob.

 

-

 

He didn’t know what to do. Walking in on a stream of tears flowing down her perfectly pallid cheeks broke his heart. Without a second thought, he went to her side, settling on the mattress next to her and wrapping his arms tightly around her shaking frame. In those few moments, he could see the slight changes. He had seen her less than two days before and yet, in that short time, something had happened. What was once a light tinge was now a slightly thicker stain of yellow across her skin. The hollow of her collarbone looked even more sunk in, her veins on full display through the thin layer of her near transparent flesh. Holding her in his arms felt like a delicate affair, as if he might squeeze just a tad too tight and break the brittle bones. 

 

He had never been very good at dealing with people crying. Despite the tough exterior, he was far too in tune with his own emotions. There was no line between sympathy and empathy for those he cared about and as the sobs wracked her body and he felt her tears seep through his thick flannel, he couldn’t help the budding droplets in his own eyes. 

 

His heart broke for her. 

 

For him. 

 

For them. 

 

For the future he never knew he wanted, but now so desperately needed.

 

As she slowly pulled back, unwinding her arms and bringing a hand up to wipe her cheeks, he watched her every move. The whites of her eyes were dull, the glowing green still bright as ever despite the dimming background. With a deep breath, she began speaking.

 

“I’ve stopped responding to treatments.”

 

A bomb dropped right before his very eyes. The words passed through his ears but bounced off his brain as a high pitched ringing drowned out everything else around him. He refused to believe them as she spoke. He could not process them, his mind in denial and his breathing halted. He watched her tilt her head, watched her purse her lips, watched the tears stream angrily down her cheeks, watched her watch him, waiting for a response. 

 

But he didn’t have one to give her, he didn’t know what to say, nothing would make it better. He wasn’t an expert in medicine, but with his father’s profession and the hours he had spent googling Hepatitis B after she told him, he knew more than most. He knew that not responding to treatments really meant her liver was failing. Transplants weren’t always readily available and he knew from his research, that at any given time, there were over 15,000 people waiting on a transplant - even though she was the only one that mattered to him. 

 

He also knew it was selfish of him to think that way, but as her eyes searched his, desperate for a response, he could only think of one solution. One terrible, horrible, very bad solution. 

 

No words could possibly convey all that he wanted to tell her and he refused to lie with the typical ‘it will be alright’ or ‘you can beat this’. It seemed unfair to lie to her, he didn’t want to be another one of the people who saw her as anything but the amazing, gorgeous, intelligent, strong woman that she really was. So without a single word to say, he simply cupped her cheek, tilting his head to the side and leaning forward to place a kiss on her lips. It was simple and short, an act of pure adoration used in place of hollow reassurances. 

 

“We’ll figure this out.” He meant it. Even though he had no idea how it would happen, he still meant every single word. 

 

She nodded and sniffled, reaching up to brush away a tear trailing down his cheek. 

 

He only stayed a few hours, listening to her recount the appointment and holding her as she cried. It sounded worse than he had ever imagined. Her days were numbered, possibly only in double digits. He struggled to breathe, to keep his calm, to be strong for her when she was at her weakest because he knew she needed it more than he needed to break down. That was for later, when he could be alone with his thoughts and process it. He would never accept it, it was impossible, but he had a plan, and as soon as they said goodbye with another simple kiss in her bed, his motorcycle roared down the quiet streets of the Northside on the road to a place he had been avoiding for a long time.

 

-

 

The smell hit him first as he approached his father at the Wyrm. FP smelled as if he had been dipped in alcohol and steeped in it for days. The hug that followed was accompanied by the drunken slurs of ‘my boy’ only served to immerse him fully in the stench of whiskey. He knew if he lit a match, FP could very easily breathe fire. 

 

It was a task guiding him outside, shuffling the full weight of his body as it tilted side to side from his intoxicated steps. It was even harder getting him in the truck, lifting one leg at a time and pushing him far enough inside to close the door. He didn’t even try to argue about the seatbelt, his drunk father was worse than a child and if he wanted to drink himself to death and ride without a seatbelt, he had long given up the fight for wise decisions. 

 

He drove around the Southside for what felt like a long time, the passenger window all the way down with FP’s head sticking out. Jughead had hoped the cool air might serve to sober him up a bit, enough for the talk that needed to be had. It seemed to do the trick after a while and Jughead finally pulled up to the trailer and shuffled them inside. It was considerably easier directing his father when his own feet carried most of the weight. 

 

As they settled onto the couch, the silence that had hung between them, since he simply said ‘we need to talk’ at the Wyrm, was growing thicker with each passing second and he finally broke. A single tear trailed down his face and his father’s eyes trained on it, a serious expression settling on his features as he reached forward to grip his son’s arm.

 

“What is it, Jug?” The slur had subsided a bit, but the drawl of the words still told him his father was far from sober. He figured FP was more coherent than he had been in a long time though and decided to take the plunge.

 

“It’s Betty.”

 

“Betty Cooper?” FP hiccuped. “The girl from the play?”

 

“How did you even know about the-” Jughead shook his head- “nevermind. It doesn’t matter. Yes. Betty Cooper. She’s sick and I need you to fix her.” 

 

He was glad she wasn’t there to hear his words, but eloquence went out the window as the prospect of her simply ceasing to exist sunk in throughout the night. She wasn’t broken necessarily, but there were fractures in her very being that he had no earthly idea how to fix and only a few people in his life were laiden with medical knowledge. His father and his childhood best friend’s father. If he had known where to find Fred Andrews, he would have gone there first, but they moved out of the Southside long ago; and despite the lack of ill feelings from either party, they hadn’t kept in contact, simply letting the divide between the north and south carve a rift he hadn’t actively tried to mend. Fred was his next stop if FP couldn’t help, and he knew realistically there was a possibility that he’d be knocking on every door on the Northside until he found Fred Andrews if need be. 

 

The words fell right out of his mouth as he filled FP in on the diagnosis, the prognosis, and the details she had shared with him thus far. His father, to his credit, nodded at certain parts and appeared to be listening. He got it all out in a flurry, between deep breaths and pauses to keep the tears at bay. FP stayed silent until the very end, his attention laser focused on Jughead’s words.

 

“Can you help her?” He didn’t even try to hide the desperation in his voice, the effort not even worth it. He knew he was desperate and he wanted his father to know, too. 

 

“I wish I could, Jug. But-”

 

“I love her,” he interrupted.

 

FP only nodded before leaning back on the couch and covering his face with his hands. He groaned aloud. “I don’t think I can.”

 

“Don’t lie to me. You’ve been selfish my entire life. First putting work before you family then putting your bottles above everything else. I haven’t asked you for anything. Ever. But I’m asking now. I need you. Betty needs you. Please dad,” his voice cracked, “fix her. For me. I need her.” The tears fell freely as he pled his case. It was true, he needed her. 

 

She was the light to his dark, the sweet to his salty, the sun to his moon. She was his everything. And if she was to be no more, he didn’t know how he could possibly exist. The life he knew before her felt like a lie and once he discovered what bathing in the pure, unabashed goodness of her felt like, he knew there was no turning back. He was tainted forever, stained by her memory. His heart was in her hands and he knew if she passed, he’d never feel anything again. Simply hearing her words earlier had numbed him more than he even thought possible and for those words to come to fruition - well, it wouldn’t just be her end, it would be his as well. He knew it. 

 

“I’ll try.” 

 

Despite his father’s words sounding hollow, he wanted to believe them with every fiber of his being. He needed hope. He knew it was foolish. Believing FP was futile, but he saw no other option so he nodded, letting the silence envelope them on the couch as the tears started flowing again.

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come find me on tumblr @bugggghead

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, what did you guys think?!
> 
> I'm really, really excited to share this with you all and I hope you love it as much as I do.
> 
> Comments are ALWAYS appreciated!!!


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